Lessons Learned
by A. X. Zanier
Summary: Exposure to some dangerous cargo leaves Darien and Alyx quarantined and time quickly running out. COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

Author: A. X. Zanier  
  
Title: Lessons Learned  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or basic story ideas to "The Invisible Man." Any additional characters or ideas are mine.  
  
Timeline: Two weeks after "Out in the Cold"  
  
Comments: When the plot bunnies attack everyone should run in fear. This was, I thought, an appropriate follow up to OITC and a good lead in to the next two in the series AHSN and WYW. This is also my first attempt at really getting into the Keeper's head. Not exactly my choice, where the plot bunnies lead I am forced to follow.  
  
Music: "I Will Remember You" by Sarah McLachlan, "King of Pain" by The Police, "Out There" by Sister Hazel  
  
Thanks to Rebecca(WorkerCaste) my brave Beta reader/editor, who puts up with my version of creativity.  
  
Lessons Learned  
  
In what was most likely a chilly December day in 1963, President Lyndon B. Johnson said, "We can draw lessons from the past, but we cannot live in it." Sometimes it's a hard thing to learn, sometimes the past haunts us far more than we should let it, sometimes the lessons the past has taught us are the ones we shouldn't have learned.  
  
-- Saturday --  
  
I open the door to my townhouse to see Alyx standing on the top step, looking uncomfortable. She's wearing jeans and a heavy sweater, with what looks like a turtleneck peeking out above the collar of the sweater. The sweater is very bulky and distorts the curves I'm used to seeing on her. I don't speak -- perhaps saving my words for later when they may really be needed -- but just step aside, allowing her into my home for the very first time.  
  
I shut the door and lock it out of habit and turn to see her standing in the hall. Tension just about oozes off of her. She's not broadcasting -- her control has improved greatly since our first meeting, back in that cage buried in the basement of the Agency -- but I can tell. It's not often she's truly relaxed around any of us. In the months she has been working with us, she's adjusted, but not much else. Only the first, very tentative, feelings of trust are beginning to show. Understandable, considering the innumerable mistakes that had been made bringing her into the Agency. But now I know that isn't the only reason. Things from her past, her many lived years prior to the Agency, have in many ways also been responsible for her ongoing distrust. Especially of Bobby and Darien.  
  
Going to her side, I motion for her to continue down the hall, which opens out onto my living room. I am hoping the more relaxed surroundings will be conducive in getting her to talk about painful subjects. I observe her as she carefully looks over the room, taking in everything. I know for a fact that, if I asked her to close her eyes and describe the room in detail, she could, down to the smallest piece of Pavlov's hair sitting on the carpet. She relaxes marginally, her stance easing by an infinitesimal amount that I am observant enough to notice.  
  
"Have a seat, Alyx." I move into my kitchen; it is right off the living room. "Care for a drink?" I get down a pair of glasses from the cabinet I keep them in.  
  
"No thanks. Maybe later," she answers as she turns to look at me. She allows her bag, that backpack that seems to go everywhere with her, to slip off her shoulder and land on the floor at the end of the sofa with nary a sound.  
  
I walk back out carrying my glass of juice and sit in the armchair. "Sit," I suggest to her again with a wave of my hand. This time she does, if a bit stiffly, perching on the very edge of the sofa, as if ready to bolt at any second. "Alyx, if you'd rather talk to a psychiatrist..." I trail off as she shakes her head.  
  
It isn't that I don't know psychology; I have to for the position as Keeper. I have to understand the motivations of my Kepts and use that knowledge to keep them, to manipulate them, to control them when necessary. But even I will admit that I am no therapist. It may turn out that Alyx will need far more than the limited help I can give.  
  
She settles back a bit further into the sofa, but does not lean back. Instead, she is nearly doubled over with her forearms resting on her thighs. "I just... You won't tell the Official? Won't parade my every psychotic fear and bad memory before him?"  
  
She is pleading softly. Not whining, not begging, but pleading with both posture and tone. "As I agreed before -- only if it is absolutely necessary will I tell him." I give her a small smile of encouragement. "All right?"  
  
"Where do you want me to start?" she asks, lifting her head to look over at me.  
  
I don't nod, don't smile, keep the satisfaction I feel off my countenance. She has made the first move like I have been hoping she would. Like I know she needs to do. I already have my questions planned, the small promptings that, hopefully, will reveal the information I need, to help her help herself. "How did you meet him?"  
  
Much to my surprise, she laughs, shaking her head gently. The few curls that have pulled free from the bun her hair is pulled back into bounce and wave about her face.  
  
"I ran into him -- literally. Hit him with my car the first day I screwed up my courage to drive again." She pauses, and a look of bone-deep sorrow passes across her features. "I hadn't been able to drive since my parents were killed. Just couldn't seem to get behind the wheel. The memories...." She breaks off then with a choked sob.  
  
I have done some research into her life. It was a necessity, so that I can care for her and understand her properly, but I had run into problems, walls that I could not seem to get around. A lot of her records are missing or incomplete, and the few I have found, Alyx herself has altered. I have yet to confront her on the matter, not that it would result in anything more than her closing herself off from me even more so than she does now. The data she removed has made me curious as to what she is hiding, what exactly she doesn't want me and the Agency to know about her. You'd think her life would be an open book with the access we can get, the strings the Official can pull, and the data Eberts can retrieve, but that is far from the truth.  
  
I knew about her parents' deaths and the fact she had come upon the crash site, tried to save them herself according to the police and fire reports. She'd nearly been killed, pulled away from the burning car mere moments before it exploded. I knew she had recurring nightmares, and a unique phobia dealing with fire that took medication to help her get through. The end result was panic attacks and severe sleep loss. The attacks had happened throughout her life since the accident, and were moderate to severe, but in general did not interfere with everyday life. She'd had no recorded attacks in over five years, though. She had been to see a psychologist soon after the accident, but given her age at the time, and the situation -- there were custody issues -- the records had been sealed and I had, as yet, been unable to gain access to them. Partially because now 'she' was dead.  
  
Just another issue I would have to deal with eventually. Like the panic attacks due to sensory loss; too many inhibitors had been used at too high a level to try and keep her under control at the original Lab. A mistake, as it turned out -- it had left her completely phobic and would send her into a fugue-like state that she needed to be sedated through. She denied the phobia to me, but I knew the signs. I'd watched her fighting to hold herself together those few times I'd been forced to resort to using the inhibitor -- in very low doses -- to help her regain control. I wasn't sure which she hated more: the inhibitor, or the 'pattern' programming.  
  
Her new abilities had become part of her now, and their loss, should it occur, could very well drive her to insanity -- or worse, suicide.  
  
"Alyx, you don't have to discuss that today," I say softly, hoping to pull her back from the brink she's nearing. I do know she needs the release, to break down and let out the misery she's feeling, to express the pain and fear, but not yet. She needs to get the words out, to face them, to see them as what they are first, before it will do her any real good. "You were rather young, weren't you?"  
  
She just shrugs. "We became friends. Our relationship didn't go beyond that until after I turned eighteen." I watched her rub the side of her face, but not like a few weeks ago -- this was normal discomfort, not the past intruding on her now. "Good little -- naive -- girl that I was."  
  
Alyx admitting she was naive was a surprise, though probably true. She had been young and most likely feeling more than a bit lost after the death of her parents, making her an easy target for just that type of manipulative bastard. This one had played her well. "Alyx, it was not your fault."  
  
Alyx leaned back into the cushions of the sofa, finally, but she wasn't any more at ease than before. "Of course it was. I walked right into the situation. I watched my life deteriorate, fall apart, and I let it. Let him take it over. Mostly anyway. I had this odd streak that made me challenge him every now and then. I usually ended up beaten black and blue for it, but it always seemed to be worth it, like I had somehow won even though I had ended up hurt yet again." She shakes her head and laughs softly. "It seemed that no matter what, I had to challenge him, force him to beat me into submission, almost... almost as if to remind him that he hadn't really won yet. That under the bruises, the subservient attitude, the pleas and begging for him to stop, that I was still better, stronger than him."  
  
I wasn't all that surprised by her comments. What I did know about her showed her to be a fiercely independent spirit who fought against any type of imprisonment. I had full access to what had taken place at that Lab, knew exactly how hard she'd fought from the first time she'd been awoken, knew that her sole concern had been to get away, to get back to her family, to her children. I had wondered if perhaps she had known subconsciously that she had passed her talents on to her offspring. I had only recently confirmed the presence of quicksilver in each of them and, based on Darien's report of the incident in Newport, suspected her youngest might very well have begun manifesting her talents early. Alyx had done no more than give a bare-bones report on the incident, though she had made sure to implicate the CIA as the instigators of the entire thing. They were denying it, of course.  
  
Her apparent inability to trust was directly related to her husband and his abuse of her. I understood her not wanting to trust me -- I was one of 'them.' Another scientist brought in to poke and prod her, to try and coerce her into using those talents she'd been gifted with. She had just begun to really trust her Keeper at that Lab, and his abrupt departure had done irreparable harm to her. She had come to rely on him to keep her grounded, to remind her that she had to constantly work to retain control, that if she lost control there would be great harm to so very many others, whether it was intentional or not. Then he had vanished, and her world had fallen apart. She'd destroyed the Lab in one spectacular burst of uncontrolled energy. It had been effective in forcing her to gain some sort of control, but had also taken her to the point where she tried to starve herself to keep from ever harming anyone again.  
  
She reminded me, oddly enough, of Darien, who felt such guilt over the things he did while quicksilver mad. He never, no matter what he might say, blamed the madness. He always blamed himself. Always.  
  
I often wondered if Darien envied Alyx her lack of side effects where the quicksilver was concerned, but I had never found the courage to ask him, to perhaps learn he was indeed jealous when I knew he had no reason to be. Alyx still hated her abilities in many ways. Oh, I knew she had resigned herself to the situation, and had found that necessary bit of inner peace that she'd lacked, but I also knew it was still no easier for her. I had gotten her to detail her first experience triggering the quicksilver, had egged her into it, when she'd still been a 'guest' of the Agency. She had all but snarled out the events at me.  
  
She had simply wanted to hide, to get away from the strangers who had stolen her life, who were explaining, to her confusion, that she was 'dead' and now the property of the government. They had assumed she would require an adrenal trigger, much like the QS-9000 project had, but they had been mistaken. She had had the quicksilver in her system for almost her entire life, so she didn't need an artificial trigger. She'd simply had to want it to happen, and it had. She had gone invisible for the first time out of a need to gain her freedom, but it had been anger she'd been feeling, the sudden urge to hurt, even kill those in her way. And that had frightened her more than suddenly turning invisible.  
  
I realize I've been thinking for longer than I intended. Alyx is looking at me with a hint of humor in her eyes. "Boring you, am I?"  
  
I shake my head. "No, just putting the pieces into place for the puzzle that you are." She gets a thoughtful look and nods slightly, as if understanding. She must realize she is going to give me more power over her, however slight, by talking to me, and it ... honors me. It shows me she's willing to... maybe not trust me, but allow me to step a tiny bit closer to her. "Alyx, do you trust anyone?"  
  
"Not even myself," she answers candidly. "You have no idea of the temptation all this power is. You think giving a thief the ability to go invisible was a less-than-intelligent idea? Try giving a near-genius the ability to just about literally do anything she wants. That's what you did to me. Though I must give you credit, you also did a damn good job taming me." She closes her eyes for a moment and I know she is searching her memories for something in particular. "All that power with no control... I still have nightmares about it. Vague and confused, but I have them, and what scares me most about it is the pleasure I felt with all that power running through me. While it was happening, it was the most euphoric experience in my life. Then I had to come back down and face reality."  
  
Her look is hard, making me realize I have to walk a very fine line with her. Instead of turning her back to the subject of her abuse, I move forward. "What is it about Darien that affects you so?"  
  
This time the laughter that breaks past her lips is nearly hysterical. "What a question. Think, Claire. Think about how we met."  
  
I look at her, unsure of her point. I know exactly how they met, and it had been forced upon me by the Official. I was nearly certain that Darien was going to kill her, but the Official was convinced it would work, that she would, in the end, break and use her abilities, if not to help herself, then to help Darien. And it had worked. "Alyx..."  
  
"Claire, he was my worst nightmare, in many ways. Kind and sweet for all those hours and then... " She slapped her hands together startling me. "He was nasty, cruel, abusive. To make matters worse, I could feel everything that was happening to him. You have no idea the hell he goes through." I open my mouth to speak, but she runs over the top of my words. "You think you do, but I know. I know."  
  
She slumps back against the cushions, looking so very tired. And more than that, worn. Like she was carrying around the weight of the world on her shoulders. Atlas for the new millennium.  
  
"How can I trust him? He brings all those memories back, and it's not his fault. None of it is. He's what I hate the most, and yet he's also the sweetest man I have ever met."  
  
"He scares you?" I ask, thinking back to our little convention trip. I knew she and Darien had been getting closer, had been exploring the possibility of a relationship, and yet since that trip it had changed. Darien would still look at her with that hunger in his eyes -- he would be so very angry if he realized I knew -- but he was very careful to never let her see it. Gone was the silly flirtatiousness I had watched flow between them. Though between her and Bobby... some days, their attempts to out-innuendo each other grated on my nerves. It was one of those 'guy' things that Alyx had somehow mastered -- having three brothers most likely aided her -- but only rarely did Darien participate these days.  
  
"No. Oddly enough, he doesn't. But because of what happens to him...." She shrugged. "I don't blame him, any more than I blame Bobby, Eberts, or you, but that doesn't make trust any easier. I'm trying. I swear I am. I just can't let myself go that far, not yet. Maybe not ever again."  
  
Her voice is hushed by the end, barely audible, but I hear her. In some ways, I can't find fault with her view of life, can't find a valid argument that might make her see things differently. I will do what I can to help, but finding the ability trust again is something only she can do.  
  
"And you let me get way off track here." She's regained her composure for the moment, impressing me with her resilience yet again.  
  
"Not really," I find myself saying. "When was the first time he hit you?" I watch as she pales slightly, the pain coming to her eyes for an instant, and listen patiently while she tells me. She is going to need a friend when this session of ours is over, and I give myself a mental reminder to make a call as soon as she's out the door. She may not really trust any of us yet, but she has made friends, and they would do just about anything for her, whether or not she realizes it.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Alyx walked into her apartment to find the room softly lit by candles and dinner waiting for her on the dining table. It was nothing fancy: pasta with red sauce and garlic bread that was fresh from the oven by the smell of it. Not quite trusting her senses, she actively searched for anyone in the room -- hell, in the building -- that might have done this, but came up blank. Just her neighbors below her and the super working in the shop off the garage on the ground floor. Setting her bag down on the sofa, she wandered into her kitchen where she found the note stuck to her fridge with a magnet. 'A little Keepy told me you might be in need of some TLC. Enjoy the meal and take a long relaxing bath. I spared no expense. -- D'  
  
Shaking her head for the umpteenth time that day, she backtracked and picked up a slice of the garlic bread to nibble on as she wandered into the bathroom. There were more candles in there, giving the room a soft, calming light. Along the lip of the oversized tub were a box of Mr. Bubble, a single champagne flute, and a bottle of decent champagne chilling in a wine bucket. Alyx smiled. No expense, indeed.  
  
A little more than an hour later, Alyx was ensconced in hot water laced with the pink aroma of Mr. Bubble and sipping at her third glass of the champagne. She knew that Claire must have called Darien the moment she'd been out the door and that she had somehow known that Alyx was not going to be heading directly home. Even though Alyx had done her best to give little or nothing away about herself, it was now obvious that at least two people had been observant enough to know her habits when upset, and she had been upset after leaving Claire's place. She had been so upset at one point -- when discussing the first time her husband had raped her -- that the only thing that had kept her in place had been the sudden appearance of Pavlov, Claire's dog.  
  
Instead of barking at the stranger or doing the yippy happy thing to try and make friends, the little guy had sat solemnly at her feet just staring up at her for several long minutes as she finished the telling of the experience. Then he had hopped up into her lap and laid down with a sigh, much to Claire's surprise. Alyx had spent the rest of the afternoon discussing painful things from her past while running her fingers through the silky hair of the little dog.  
  
The ache of those memories was still with her and would be for the rest of her life, but -- and this was the soft-spoken comment Claire had made -- was she going to let those fears, those memories, those buried bruises and scars control her life now? Was she going to let him win?  
  
Settling deeper into the tub, she finished off the glass and poured another. She knew she couldn't really get drunk, but she was more than capable of achieving a pleasant state of muzziness, where the world took on a touch of unreality and her abilities were dimmed. Never to the degree she wanted to panic, of course -- it just dulled the signals and maybe let her relax her tightly-held shields a bit. Claire couldn't seem to understand that it was actual work to maintain her shielding all the time, a constant, if small, drain on her resources. It was a minor cost to pay to have her sanity, though. She could still remember, though a bit fuzzily, her first week fully conscious and how very much it had hurt, how very lost she had become in so short a time.  
  
She had worked out later that she'd been awake on and off for the two weeks prior as they figured out what was going on and came up with the inhibitor to help control the voices, emotions, and other sensory input she was picking up without control. Even with those drugs, it had taken her teacher's arrival, and his non-accusatory attitude and kindness, for her to be willing to try and gain control over her new abilities. Every day had been a fight to hold onto herself, to remember who she was, to resist the almost unconscious urge, need, to hurt those that had taken her life away, to simply live until the next day.  
  
With a soft growl of irritation at herself, she pushed those thoughts away. They were past and she had moved on, had found some peace and, yes, even happiness here. Setting the glass aside, she closed her eyes and sank deeper into the tub, allowing the water to rise up to her neck and the pile of bubbles to tickle her chin. That's when the phone she'd dragged into the bathroom with her went off.  
  
Smiling slightly, she picked it up with a damp hand and brought it to her ear. "Ummm, what?" she mumbled into it.  
  
A soft chuckle rolled out at her. "Enjoying yourself?"  
  
"Mmmm. Not really a valid question," Alyx replied, not allowing herself to come up out of the pleasant drowse the hot water and alcohol had lured her into.  
  
"'Not a valid question?' Sure sounded like one to me." His voice remained soft, almost teasing. "Bad day?"  
  
Alyx thought about how to answer him without giving anything of importance away. "Yes and no."  
  
He laughed. "That's not an answer." There was a long pause. "So, what are you wearing?" The leer was blatant in his voice.  
  
Alyx decided to go along with it for now, the champagne and the need to ease the tensions of the day's events encouraging her into a bit of harmless silliness. "Mr. Bubble and nothing else."  
  
He made this odd, half-strangled noise in the back of his throat and Alyx grinned evilly. Shifting so that he could hear the water moving, she sighed audibly and waited for him to say something.  
  
When he did his voice was tight. "Damn," was all he managed to get out.  
  
"Something the matter, sweets?" she drawled, realizing she missed being able to tease him like this. While Bobby had been easier around her, Darien had become far more standoffish since returning from their little convention trip. "Something come up, perhaps?"  
  
"Alyx!" he blurted out. "You are a terrible tease, you know that."  
  
"Me? Who asked what I was wearing?" She listened to him groan. "Should I ask you the same? Maybe convince you to slip into, oh ... nothing." She had a pretty damn good guess how he'd react to that comment.  
  
"Oh, crap," he muttered. "I... Want some company?" The leer was back.  
  
Alyx seriously thought about it. A goodly portion of her wanted no part of being alone tonight, wanted no part of the dreams she knew would come once her eyes closed and she allowed herself to sleep. But she also wanted no part of coming to rely on another person to protect her from those things. She had to learn to deal with what she was and what she had been on her own and... she didn't want Darien to mistake their building friendship for more than that, didn't want to hurt him more than she already had.  
  
"Mmm, I think tonight I would be better off alone." She looked over at the bottle, noting it was more than half gone already and betting it would be empty by the time she drained the tub. "Why don't you go out and have some fun? Go bowling with Bobby, or bar hopping for that matter. Play pool with some pretties, have a few beers, enjoy the evening."  
  
"Bobby's busy and I.... You know I don't go out much any more." He almost sounded sad.  
  
"You should, you know. Get a life and all that. No one said you weren't allowed some fun." Alyx let sympathy leak into her voice. She had a good idea of how hard it had been on him, how much adjustment he had be forced to make in his life to accommodate the gland and the Agency, how lonely he'd become over the last year and a half. Part of her was still angry at the Official and his less-than-subtle attempt to fix Darien's life by tossing her at him like a bone to a dog. To give him an in-house distraction to not only keep him in the fold, but keep him happy, distracted... sated, even. Too bad she wasn't willing to play the 'Fish's game. Too bad she was afraid to. "Dare, there are plenty of beautiful women out there that would be happy to spend a quiet evening with you."  
  
"All except the one I want." The hurt was back in his voice and it made Alyx feel guilty. The teasing had turned out to be not as harmless as she had hoped.  
  
Alyx pushed herself a bit more upright and leaned against the side of the tub. "Darien, I'm sorry. I hadn't intended to upset you. I just can't be what you want."  
  
"I know, and I shouldn't have started the teasing." His voice lowered. "But I miss you."  
  
Alyx snorted. "I never said to stay away. How about lunch tomorrow? We could have a picnic, or do a movie marathon. I recently acquired several Mel Brooks movies on DVD." Since the night they'd exchanged belated Christmas gifts and watched movies till the wee hours of the morning, Darien had stayed distant from her. Oh, they still worked together just fine, though there had only been one mission since he'd recovered fully. In fact, he still had the remains of the bruises he'd gained on that snowy mountainside. His cheek was at that horrible green and yellow stage, and his ribs were still holding onto some of the purple. The knife wound had healed quite well, even after everything, and should eventually fade into a faint line that few would notice.  
  
"Alyx... Yeah, I'd like that. You sure you don't want company tonight?"  
  
"I'm sure. I plan on finishing this bottle of drink, while soaking a bit longer, meditate for a bit, and then sleep. I need to sort through some things, Dare. Okay?" The last thing she wanted to do was push him even further away. While she might still be uncomfortable with the 'Fish's intentions, she did like Darien and wanted, needed, his friendship. "Thank you for everything you did tonight. You have no idea how much I appreciate it, or how badly it was needed."  
  
"Hey, no problem. That's what friends are for, right?" He was still a bit stiff, but better, not quite as upset.  
  
"Right. Night, Dare."  
  
"Sleep well, Alyx." Darien hung up his cell phone and shoved it into his pocket. He leaned his head against the cool metal of her door with a sigh. "G'night, Alyx." Pushing away from the door, he headed for the elevator, intending to head home and to try and not think about her all evening. 


	2. Chapter 2

~~ Sunday ~~  
  
When the door slid open, he just stood there looking at her, trying not to do what he'd been wanting to since last night -- what he had dreamed about all night long, much to his aggravation. Seeing her standing there in a pair of dark gray leggings, black v-necked shirt and dark gray cardigan that fell to mid-thigh caused far more of a reaction than he thought it should. He was on the verge of doing something foolish, like caressing her cheek, when she grabbed him by the arm and pulled him into the apartment.  
  
"Jeeze Dare, do I have a fish on my head or something?" Alyx shut and locked the door with her mind while she steered him further into her apartment. "What?" she said to his still apparently stunned form.  
  
"Ummm, nothing really. I... still cold?" He slid off the jacket he was wearing and tossed it on one of the coat hooks mounted in the wall next to the door. He pushed up the sleeves of his sweater and followed her into the kitchen where she was preparing something. Looking over the amount of food, he was impressed. "You expecting an army?"  
  
Alyx laughed. "No. I... well, I can only work out for so many hours, and I like to cook." She watched him head to the fridge and pull out a beer, which he opened with a casual twist of his wrist. "So, explain the staring bit at the door."  
  
Darien tipped the bottle back and swallowed a large gulp of the liquid. He wasn't quite sure what to say, how to explain and was pretty sure she didn't want to hear the truth.  
  
"What? My clothes not meet your lofty standards? Oh, I know, you'd prefer if I'd answered the door wearing Mr. Bubble and nothing else." She glanced over her shoulder as she spoke, smiling at him. His face had gone tight. "Oh...."  
  
"Maybe I should go. This was not a good idea." He didn't move, though, wanted to hear what she thought about the situation.  
  
She had turned away, looking down at the sliced vegetables on the cutting board. "Stay, please... I need the company." Her shoulders slumped and her eyes closed. Her night had been anything but peaceful. She had done exactly what she'd told Darien she would: soaked a while longer, meditated, gone to sleep. Only to wake up just over an hour later, trying not to scream in reaction to the nightmare. Three more times she'd tried and three more times she'd been awoken by some horror, some dark part of her past that the day's discussion with Claire had drawn near to the surface. They lay in wait for her to be unawares, vulnerable to burst out and grab hold of her mind and make her relive things better left drowned in their watery grave.  
  
It didn't take much for Darien to figure out something was wrong, and he caved, knowing that he was one of the few, perhaps the only person she could talk to about some things. "Sure." He set down the bottle and moved behind her, setting one hand on a shoulder. He could feel how chilled she was even through the clothes. "Crap, Alyx, thought you'd gotten better? You're doing the ice cube thing again."  
  
"I'm fine. Didn't get enough sleep is all." She turned slightly and looked up at him. "Forgot to eat as well."  
  
"Silly. What can I help with?" His hand slid about her neck and drew her back against him, hoping to warm her.  
  
"Nothing really. These veggies were the last thing. Just need to store them." She leaned back into his warmth with a grateful sigh. "Are you mad at me?" she asked softly as she got back to work slicing the last few mushrooms.  
  
"I'm not sure what I am." He released her and moved back over to get his beer. He came to rest leaning against the counter beside her, the bottle rolling between his hands. "I don't want to push you into anything, or away, but it's hard to ... to talk like we did last night and know that's all it is -- talk."  
  
Alyx set the knife down, finished with the cutting, and began to pack the vegetables in bags for storage. Grab a few bags and she could toss together a quick stir-fry on those busy days she knew would happen during the week. "Darien, I tried, just like I agreed, but I can't. I... just can't." She could feel his reaction, his unhappiness, his anger even. "Look, I offered to have the 'Fish split us up, but both you and Bobby insisted that you wanted me here, working with you. What more do you want?"  
  
"I want this." He leaned in and kissed her, his free hand coming up to trace circles on the back of her neck. His tongue found its way into her mouth and met hers, making her groan in reaction and relax in his hold. Until the gland decided to join the party, much to his dismay. "Crap," he muttered, pulling away from her.  
  
"Dare?" Alyx asked, not sure what the problem was now. She hadn't wanted him to stop, her resolve nearly melting away at his gentle touch. 'That's the way it started, remember?' a tiny, obnoxious part of her mind asked. 'Have you failed to learn anything?'  
  
"Sorry, I ..." Darien hated this part of having the gland. "The adrenaline and all."  
  
Alyx knew exactly what the problem was. "Ah yes, the gland wants to play?"  
  
Darien actually laughed. "Oh, yes." He caught the look in her eyes. "Not gonna happen, is it?"  
  
"Nope," she replied with a grin. One hand was still moving randomly across his stomach, she could feel the muscles twitching in reaction. "I need a friend more than a lover right now, and I think we could have a very good friendship given some time."  
  
His hand moved to capture hers and still its movement. For an instant he got a surge of emotions from her, but she got it under control quickly, leaving him with only vague impressions he wasn't quite sure the meaning of.  
  
"You and Bobby are having enough problems over me. I won't add to that if I can help it, but I..." Alyx stopped, unable to find the words she needed.  
  
"Bobby and I will work out our problems. You try not to worry about it." When it appeared she didn't believe him, his tone became a bit more insistent. "Trust me, Bobby and I will figure out something. Even if it means I get yelled at every time I stay for a sleepover." He was grinning, hoping to get her to smile by reminding her of some of the silliness they had shared, but she froze, looking both sad and scared.  
  
"That's just it, Darien -- I don't trust. Anyone. And I may never be able to again."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
-- Monday --  
  
I'm sitting down here in the Keep -- the Keep, I'm still not sure when that appellation invaded and stayed. It's even to the point that I rarely remember to call this place Lab 101 anymore. It has become the Keep.  
  
I have to wonder if any of them realize how very accurate that term is. With all the myriad definitions of 'keep', there is one that fits quite well. Though the nickname may have come about as no more than a shortening of my title -- the Keeper. Given Darien's intense dislike for anything that reminds him of his situation as a lab rat, I can see him doing exactly that. He hates lab rat references with a passion, even though he tends to make the majority of them. Mainly complaints about being one.  
  
I still have to wonder if they realize how very apropos the name is.  
  
Silly of me. I am quite certain Alyx knows -- she's called it the Keep from nearly day one -- and Bobby may know simply because of his military background. Most every castle has a keep, and this one is the Agency's. Where I keep and protect their most valuable asset -- Darien Fawkes.  
  
It dawns on me that the name may have stuck because that's how he sees this dark, poorly lit room: as one of the few places he feels safe and protected.  
  
I turn back to the notebook on the lab bench before me, the one Alyx dropped off this morning before heading out to do whatever it is the Official has her doing today. Finishing up that class, I think, though I'm far from sure. Unlike with Darien, the Official rarely fills me in on what Alyx is doing. With her I don't need to worry about having counteragent ready for her return. With Alyx, it's more likely to be an ice pack for new bruises, or maybe her pain meds for another overuse headache.  
  
The papers before me suggest a bold plan that I had never even contemplated: an inhibitor to slow the excess production of quicksilver from the gland. To delay the madness and reduce the risk of counteragent tolerance by lessening the need for counteragent shots. If I'm reading this correctly, it could potentially be very useful. Having only two segments green would not be the danger it is now, and it might even eliminate the chances of Darien going into quicksilver madness.  
  
It's not that an inhibitor hasn't been considered for the gland. In fact, there is one Kevin designed, to shut off the gland completely for a short time to allow tests to be run, but I have yet to use it. That particular inhibitor was created for the original gland and did not account for the modifications Arnaud had made. I had spent most of the last year running tests to discover if the shut-down protocol would even work. What Alyx is suggesting is radically different.  
  
While part of me wants to berate myself for not seeing this solution, the rest is examining the possibilities this holds for Darien.  
  
It is obvious Alyx has had some scientific training. Her presentation style is typical for that of a research scientist and is impeccable. Some of her facts are incorrect, but she has made notes to that effect where she knew her information was lacking. She is close, though, so very close. She has very nearly reconstructed several very complex formulas, with little or no practical information. I know she's been in the Keep's secure computer system, password or no. It was impossible to keep her out, though it looked like she'd only accessed some basic files on the quicksilver itself and how the gland functioned to come up with this.  
  
Some things even I wasn't entirely sure of, such as the exact changes Arnaud had made to the genetic structure of the gland, as well as the complete breakdown of the counteragent. They were still partial mysteries to me.  
  
But if Alyx's idea were to work, if I could inhibit the quicksilver production without affecting his ability to function -- to turn invisible -- I could stave off the tolerance for... years maybe. I need to discuss this with her. If she is this far along, this knowledgeable of the gland already, then she could easily assist me without the added expense of that assistant I've needed, which the Official has insisted he cannot afford. Not that Darien needs another Keeper -- anything but that -- but her mind is a spectacular creation, almost a living computer, and I would be a fool not to make use of it.  
  
The door to the Keep -- see? -- slides open then, revealing Darien, who is dressed far more humanly than normal. No uniquely decorated shirts or creatively sized pants. Just comfortable jeans and a sweater, appropriate for the weather. It's still unseasonably cool here in San Diego, though it was supposed to warm up by the end of the week.  
  
He looks less than thrilled to be here. No sprightly hello or teasing commentary to accompany his entrance. He just slouches in and over to the exam chair, where he proceeds to slide up his sleeve in preparation for his weekly shot of counteragent.  
  
I close the notebook and place it in one of the secure drawers. I want no chance of this going missing, though I imagine Alyx could rewrite it fairly quickly if I needed her to. Going to the fridge where the counteragent is stored, I pull out the pre-prepared syringe and move to his side where a small tray holds the other items I need. As I wrap the tourniquet about his biceps I ask, "How did everything go Saturday evening?"  
  
When he frowns and all but growls at me, I am more than able to construe things did not go well. I swipe the crook of his elbow with alcohol and glance at the tattoo on the inside of his wrist. He has only two left green instead of the three or four he should be at. That explains the moodiness he is exhibiting -- he is probably nearing stage two -- so I wait to say anything. Right now I need to get the counteragent into him.  
  
Remaining calm, I make sure there is no air in the syringe and inject it into him. He flinches, even though I try to be gentle. So far there has been no major scarring in the tissue over the veins, and I intend to keep it that way, but it still hurts. After so many injections, there is little I can do about it.  
  
Setting the now-empty syringe aside, I watch as the monitor reverses colors, the red turning back to green, and hear Darien sigh beside me. "Should I ask why you were so far ahead on the quicksilver use?"  
  
He holds the cotton ball I've placed over the entry wound and draws his legs up onto the chair. "No, but since you'll bug me till I tell..."  
  
I don't acknowledge this attempt at distraction. When it comes to the quicksilver and the counteragent, I dare not back down. It may mean his life one day, never mind his sanity. "Darien...."  
  
"Unplanned cold spell, okay?"  
  
I nod. Not okay, but not exactly something he can control either. And it's a fair bet I know the cause. "You could have called me. I would have given you the shot a bit early, since you needed it."  
  
He actually looks surprised. "What, no lectures?"  
  
"No Darien, no lectures." I busy myself cleaning up the few items required to give him his shot, but then find myself with no distractions and him waiting for me to say something more. "It was Alyx, correct? Did you...?" I'm not quite willing to ask the question, but he's able to discern my meaning.  
  
"No, nothing like that. We watched some movies yesterday." He's not even close to meeting my eyes and I call him on it.  
  
"Since I highly doubt Alyx would choose movies that could cause an 'unplanned cold spell', I believe there is more you want to tell me." I make sure to keep my voice neutral, non-accusatory, knowing how easily he gets defensive about some subjects. Especially his personal life, or rather his lack of one. I'm surprised when he laughs softly.  
  
"Ah, no. Mel Brooks movies, actually. We talked a bit. She'd had a bad night."  
  
"Did more than talk, I'm betting?" He's relaxed slightly, a bit more at ease discussing this sensitive subject with me since our adventure in the woods.  
  
"Well, yeah. We kissed, and then the good ol' gland made itself known." He runs a hand through his hair and rubs the back of his neck. "Then she told me she didn't trust me. Didn't trust any of us."  
  
"Oh." It's all I can think of to say. I'm somewhat surprised Alyx told him, though it's probably a good thing. She's mentioned her reluctance to get involved with him. She said she'd tried, but was not comfortable, not ready for that type of relationship. Not yet. Not when she couldn't trust. "When did you...?" He interrupts me.  
  
"Start messing around?" he asks, and I nod in response. "Couple weeks after she came back. We... I talked her into it. Into giving me a chance, even though she flat out told me she wasn't ready. I... How can she not trust us?" He sounds exasperated and at the end of his rope.  
  
"Darien, she has her reasons." I move to his side. I have never suggested to either of them that they should get involved. I would have discouraged it, in fact, much as Bobby has, but the Official gave me explicit orders. I am to leave them strictly alone when it comes to the 'company pier,' giving advice if asked, but letting things happen as they will. It looks like at least half of his plotting is working. "Give her some time. How long did it take before you trusted Bobby, or me for that matter?"  
  
I see him tense as if he's about to argue, but then he relaxes completely, tipping his head back against the chair.  
  
"Damn. You're right. I just...sometimes I can't get her out of my mind, you know?"  
  
I know. She's haunted my nights on more than one occasion, though I doubt for the same reasons. "What is it about her? Aside from the similar situation drawing you to her?"  
  
He shakes his head. "It's not easy to explain. It's like...the first time I saw her eyes, looked into them..." He meets my eyes. "It's like I fell, and still haven't hit bottom...like maybe I never will." He slips off the chair and heads towards the door of the Keep.  
  
"Darien, she had a hard life and needs a friend right now. Can you do that for her?" I follow him, hoping to give him some understanding without revealing anything to him.  
  
He pauses as the door slides open. "Yeah, that I can do." Then he's moving down the hallway and the door slides shut, cutting off my view of him. I can only hope Alyx can find some trust in him, in all of us, or it may tear them apart. Darien has been so very lonely for so long, and the fact that he sees something more than just a beautiful woman in Alyx is a good thing. I don't see her as one who has short term flings, especially now.  
  
Bloody hell. I suddenly realize that this must be hurting her, too. With her abilities, she may very well be feeling everything Darien is. It looks like I'm going to have to discuss more than just her past with her. Her present and how she is dealing with it are now necessities as well.  
  
Right now though, I have other things to do, including looking over her notes in more detail.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
The door to the Official's office slammed open, to be caught -- almost in the face -- by Eberts, who calmly shut it again. The group in the room very nearly didn't recognize the person who came in due to her current state of dress. Alyx was looking rather windblown and disheveled, her face smudged with dirt. Grass, leaves, and other unidentifiable bits were caught in her hair and clothes. She looked like she'd been crawling through the brush all morning long.  
  
"Could you please explain to me why you first insist I take these damn classes and then yank me out of my field test? Is this your way of getting your rocks off? Screwing with my life and pissing off my instructor?" Alyx crossed the room as she spoke in cold voice. She was beyond angry at the moment.  
  
"Are you done?" the Official asked without even looking up from the report he was looking over and making notes on.  
  
"Let me think about it." She paused, tapping one dirt-encrusted finger on the desktop. "No."  
  
"Kid, just calm down. The Chief must have a reason to pull you in." Hobbes looked over at the Official, hoping he'd back him up, or else Alyx might very well go after him next.  
  
"Everything has been taken care of with regards to the class, Miss Silver. You were needed for a mission that just came up," Eberts explained calmly as he opened the file he now held in his hand.  
  
"So, what is it this time?" Darien asked from where he leaned against the windows. He and Hobbes had been just hanging around the building with little to do all morning, but when they'd finally headed out for lunch and some ... amusements, they'd been called back in. To sit and wait for Alyx to show up. Being stuck in the 'Fish's office for the last hour and a half with less to do than this morning had not been a fun experience, and was one he'd rather not repeat.  
  
"Courier," Eberts answered. "You will be a meeting your contact and accepting the package..."  
  
"What this time?" Alyx asked as she moved over to the nearest chair and sat down. While still irritated at being pulled from her field test, she knew the boss wouldn't have done it if it wasn't important. But it had been her ass getting chewed off by Agent Henderson, and since she'd had no idea what was going on, she had been forced to stand there and listen to it.  
  
"That is need-to-know," Eberts commented, and then he ignored the dramatic sighs that came in stereo from both Darien and Hobbes. "When you receive the package, Miss Silver will act as the courier. The package will be attached to you with a specially designed cuff that can only be removed by your contact at the other end."  
  
"Why the kid?" Hobbes asked out of curiosity.  
  
"Her talents give her the best chance of protecting the contents." The Official looked at them over the top of his glasses.  
  
"What happens if it's removed?" Alyx leaned back in the chair and ran a hand through her hair. When she encountered a stray twig that had become entangled with her curls, she sighed and pulled it out.  
  
"The contents will be vaporized via a small but powerful explosion. That will also occur should your heart rate no longer be registered by the cuff." Eberts saw the looks on all three agents' faces and cringed internally at the shouted reaction he knew was to come. Instead he was greeted by a heavy silence.  
  
"Along with whoever is near this package, I'm betting." Darien looked at Alyx and then Hobbes to gauge their reactions, but neither seemed overly disturbed by this -- literal -- bomb just dropped into their laps.  
  
"Yes. The contents are... volatile, and must not fall into the wrong hands." Eberts tried to explain, surprised that they had maintained an air of cool for a change.  
  
"So if the kid's gonna protect the package, what are we for?" Hobbes asked.  
  
"Your sole purpose is to keep her alive and intact. At any cost." The Official looked at both of the men. "Think you can handle that?"  
  
Darien knew it was him the Official was directing that question at. Bobby would protect her without being told, and would do the same for Darien no questions asked, but apparently the Official was less than sanguine about him doing the same. "Not a prob," Darien answered, pushing off the wall. "Where and when?"  
  
Eberts handed him a slim file. "All the information is in there. Don't be late to either meet."  
  
"Yes, Eberts," Hobbes said sarcastically as he walked over to Darien and looked at the file. "Kid, you have time to clean up before we leave."  
  
"Uh, yeah. Good idea." Alyx got to her feet and headed for the door, trying not to think about what they were heading out to do, or what might be in that package they'd be delivering. "Give me fifteen."  
  
"Sure, kid. Van's around back." Once she had left, he turned to Darien. "Come on, Fawkes." Hobbes took the file from him and together they left the office to head down to the parking lot. "The Keep tells me you were in a bit of a mood this morning."  
  
Darien groaned. "It's none of the Keep's business. Or yours, for that matter." Darien increased his pace, wanting some distance between himself and Hobbes before another lecture began.  
  
"Fawkes, ya gotta leave her alone." Hobbes spoke very softly, which stopped Darien cold. Moving to stand in front of his taller partner, Hobbes met his eyes. "I know what's been going on, Fawkes." He shook his head sadly. "It won't work. You can't force her into trusting or caring."  
  
"Hobbes, you don't understand... Do we have to do this again? I'm really tired of fighting over this, and it's driving her up a wall." Might as well get straight to the point and deal with it, or try to anyway.  
  
"You're serious about this, about her?" Part of Hobbes suspected there was more than just some simple attraction and lust going on with Fawkes, but he'd been hoping like hell he was wrong. Relationships just didn't work between co-workers in this business. Fawkes had been stubborn as hell, though, and pretty much ignored everything he'd said so far.  
  
"I... ah hell, I don't know anymore." He leaned back against the wall and slumped down a bit. "Maybe I'm pushing too hard... and don't you dare mention the 'company pier' thing."  
  
Hobbes grinned. "Nah, not this time." He wagged a finger at Darien. "You gotta stop messing around, though. It'll just screw up your head worse than it is now."  
  
"How, Hobbes? How do you just ignore it?" Darien asked in all seriousness. He'd watched Bobby get more and more moony-eyed over Claire, but, except for the occasional stray display that was obviously more than friendly, he'd kept it all inside. Locked it away and managed to keep it from affecting his routine, for the most part anyway.  
  
Hobbes sighed, unsure how to explain it. "I just do, Fawkes. I draw that line in the sand and don't cross it." Darien looked unconvinced. "Try thinking of her as your kid sister or something."  
  
"Oh, that's perfect. I have no interest in having my dreams warped by that image." Darien almost regretted letting that slip out, but Hobbes only nodded.  
  
"Got it bad, do ya?"  
  
"Yeah." He ran one hand through his hair and rubbed the back of his neck. "I'll deal, somehow." He pushed off the wall and they continued down the hall. "You're wrong about her not caring. She does, too damn much, and I think it scares the hell out of her."  
  
"That's 'cause it does, my friend. And I've wondered why quite a lot recently." Hobbes was still not entirely comfortable with Alyx, still had serious misgivings, especially after his 'talk' with the Official. He wouldn't back down, however. He'd continue the company pier reminders, would try and discourage them from getting together, but it looked to be a losing battle. On Fawkes' side anyway. The 'Fish was a sneaky bastard, and he'd proven it yet again by putting the kid and Fawkes together.  
  
"Are we okay? With Alyx and all? I can't change how I feel about her, any more than you can about Claire." Darien knew they needed to find some sort of middle ground on this, if only for Alyx's sake. He and Hobbes could ignore the issue, but she still picked up on their animosity over it.  
  
"Yeah, so long as you can put up with my reminders. I ain't gonna stop," Hobbes told him in all honesty.  
  
"So long as you can put up with me turning up in her bed on occasion." Darien kept a straight face, made sure to sound completely serious.  
  
"Fawkes, if I find out you've done more than 'sleep' with her, that gland in your head won't be the one you need to worry about losing," Hobbes said in the same tone.  
  
Darien burst out laughing. "That's the little tiger we know and love."  
  
Hobbes snorted as he opened the door and they walked into the parking lot. "And he thinks Bobby Hobbes is joking." Alyx was leaning against the side of the van, looking much more presentable than just a few short minutes ago. "Move it, gland-man. We have places to be and dangerous cargo to move."  
  
They were silent for the first part of the drive to the meet. Alyx had asked for the file and looked over it as she sat on the jump seat between the two of them. The tension of the last several weeks had faded between the two men. She could feel it, and it helped ease her irritation at being yanked out of her test. The Official knew how seriously she took this work, knew that even though she could speed through some of the stuff she was being taught, there were some things only experience could teach her. She may have whipped right through the book-learning portion of the class, but the fieldwork was still necessary.  
  
Closing the file, only slightly more enlightened than before she had read it, seemed to be the cue for talk to begin.  
  
"So, what were you doing this morning? It looked like you'd been crawling around in the brush." Darien asked as she tossed the file in the back of the van.  
  
"That's 'cause I was. I was part of the 'rescue' team in a hostage situation. We were crawling through the underbrush to sneak up on the location. In fact, we were just about to make our move when the 'Fish called. Henderson was pissed. They had to cancel the entire test." Alyx ran her hand through her hair and was thankful to encounter nothing more than the usual snarls her curls inevitably created. "If I don't get my certification, it's his fault."  
  
Darien had to wonder why this was so important to her. It wasn't like she was a willing participant in this life. She'd been dragged into it kicking and screaming, and yet she seemed to have taken to it like a fish to water. Just falling into and doing the work as if she'd been intending to do this stuff since the day she was born.  
  
"Don't worry about it, kid. The chief knows you did fine. You always do." Hobbes turned at the next corner, heading north out of the city to the small park where the first meet was scheduled.  
  
Alyx shrugged. "Like I have any choice. Though I think I understand why Darien was not dumped into the classes now." She turned slightly to look at the man in question and was met by brown eyes laden with confusion.  
  
"And why would that be?" Sheer curiosity on Darien's part.  
  
"I came into this knowing little or nothing. Just the usual crap and misrepresentations one picks up through TV and the daily news. Training me makes sense and may keep my ass, or yours, in one piece. Darien, however, came into this with training of a sort." She paused and grinned. "Who better for undercover work than a cat burglar? Plus, he has insights into situations that those in the biz might not see. Trying to retrain him would lose that benefit and probably confuse the hell out of him."  
  
Hobbes was nodding in agreement. "Like I told ya, apples and oranges."  
  
"Though I still disagree with your lack of self-defense and weapons training." At the look of discomfort on Darien's face, she explained a bit more. "Real self-defense training includes self-discipline techniques that could only be to your benefit and, though I know you dislike using guns, there will be times it becomes necessary. You need to know how to use them correctly."  
  
"She's right, Fawkes. Though the risks with you going wonky are high, I would still prefer it if you could shoot straight when needed." Hobbes glanced at Alyx. "The Chief has ... discouraged me from doing anything."  
  
"I won't tell if you won't. We can handle the self-defense and weapons training. He just needs the basics, and we can go heavy on the self- discipline. Maybe add yoga and some more in-depth meditation techniques. I'm pretty good at biofeedback and system control. I kinda have to be." Alyx rattled all this off quickly and with the tone of one who'd had it drilled into her by force before realizing how useful and necessary it was. "If you're willing, that is?"  
  
Darien thought it was nice of her to ask before they started working up lesson plans, and he was sorely tempted to tell them no, but he also knew they were right. Street fighting didn't always help a lot when someone went all 'Crouching Tiger' on him. "Self-discipline, huh?" Alyx nodded. "Sure, might as well take up another hobby."  
  
"Fawkes, this ain't no hobby. If you can't get serious about this, it won't do you a damn bit of good," Hobbes commented as they pulled onto the highway and hit cruising speed. They'd be at the meet in plenty of time, provided traffic stayed as it was.  
  
"Got it, Hobbesy. I'll have to trust you two know what you're doing." That intentional shot at Alyx was effective and she flinched ever so slightly, though Hobbes didn't notice as he dodged around a creatively driven Taurus.  
  
"Tourists," Hobbes muttered.  
  
  
  
Hobbes turned off the van in front of the abandoned building on the water in La Jolla. None of them had any idea why the meet was here, but it wasn't like they had any choice. Alyx shifted the heavy metal briefcase that sat on her lap and tried to resist the urge to scratch at her left wrist. The cuff was irritating the hell out of her. The contacts that allowed it to monitor her vital signs itched, and the small feed of electricity that ran through it was causing an annoying buzz in the back of her mind. There was no way for her to really block it, and she couldn't turn it off without triggering the self-destruct. Darien had wanted to know why the whole self- destruct thing was necessary, and both Hobbes and Alyx had explained that it was necessary. It prevented the bad guys from doing something like cutting off her hand to steal the package. They would need both her -- alive -- and the release code to get at the contents. Darien decided that he hadn't needed to know all that after all, which caused both Hobbes and Alyx to chuckle.  
  
"I don't like it, Hobbes; something feels off." Darien couldn't explain it. Sometimes he just knew when a burglary job was going to go sour, though it hadn't always stopped him. Which explained his occasional arrests.  
  
"Mmmm, maybe. You follow her in and I'll cover the exit. Did you get your tank topped off this morning?" Hobbes was looking over the area with a pair of binoculars, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. Just the usual collection of people and cars one would expect in this slightly run-down business district. At a guess, the place had been a motel at one time, but newer, better, and cheaper places had put it under.  
  
"I'm good to go," Darien answered.  
  
"Follow the directions to the letter, kid," Hobbes reminded her.  
  
"Yeah, and keep my eyes open." She tipped her head to the side and then shook it. Much like Darien, she felt something was off, but couldn't see what and wasn't willing to lower her shields and risk a major headache to just find out. Once inside, she'd know if there was more going on than appeared from down here.  
  
Opening the side door, she slipped out into the bright sunshine and headed around the side of the building with Darien shadowing her invisibly. *Once we're inside, kinda hang back.*  
  
*Sure. Why?* Darien was right behind her as she opened the side entrance that led into what used to be the back offices for this place. Following the directions, they headed for the back stairwell and up towards the third floor.  
  
*Just a feeling,* Alyx answered, still not sure what she was picking up and afraid it might be nothing more than Darien's own dislike of the situation. Opening the door to the floor, she stepped out into the open expanse while Darien stayed near the door itself. Most of the interior walls had been knocked out, leaving just the supporting posts and the occasional section of solid brick wall, almost as if a major renovation had been going on before the place had closed down. There was heavy layer of dust over most everything, though it had been obviously disturbed recently, and the dim light that entered through the filthy windows did nothing to improve the looks of the place.  
  
Stepping further into the room as the directions had said to, she sensed not one, but several people nearby. She opened her shields slightly and probed at those she sensed. *Crap, our contact is dead and we have unfriendlies,* Alyx sent to both Hobbes and Darien.  
  
Those very same unfriendlies appeared from behind one of those sections of brick wall in the room. Five of them, with weapons drawn. "Stay where you are," one of them ordered.  
  
*Kid, get out of there,* Hobbes' voice shouted at her. She would have loved to comply, but men started getting knocked around by something unseen and they reacted by firing almost at random.  
  
Needing to end this before she or Darien got hurt, she mentally yanked a gun out of one bad guy's hand and proceeded to fire well-placed disabling hits. *Dare, get down!* she shouted mentally, as one more guy stepped out from another section of wall and fired at them.  
  
*I'm clear,* Darien informed her with more than a little fear in his voice. Being invisible did nothing to keep him from being shot by accident.  
  
Alyx took matters into her own hands, so to speak, and slammed the guy into the wall he'd just stepped out from behind and put him out cold. With a little effort, she shifted all the weapons she could find away from the men and left them in a corner of the room for later collection.  
  
That's when the smell hit her. Looking down, she noticed the three holes in the supposedly bulletproof case and the odd amber liquid that was not only dripping down the side of the metal case, but that had also splashed her pant leg as the bullet had winged its way by.  
  
"Oh, shit," she muttered.  
  
"What?" Darien asked at the sound of utter dread in her voice. He moved over to her now that all the excitement was over.  
  
"Stay back, Darien!" she shouted at him, but it was too late; he let the quicksilver fall away and appeared next to her. "Idiot," she snapped. *Bobby, we have a problem.*  
  
*What kind of problem?* He had heard the gunshots and been headed towards their location to help, but her words stopped him.  
  
*The package has been damaged and we've been contaminated. Do not come in here. Just call for help.* Alyx explained as calmly as she could. The rush of emotions that came off of Hobbes was quite impressive. Everything from anger to fear -- for herself and for Darien. *I'll keep the bad guys here as well. Hurry Bobby.*  
  
*Yeah, kid. I'm calling the boss now.* It was obvious he was distracted.  
  
"What's going on Alyx?" Darien asked as he set a hand on her shoulder.  
  
She sank to the floor with a sigh. "Well, we've just been exposed to whatever was inside this case. And it's a good bet it was nothing friendly."  
  
Darien felt the blood drain from his face. "Oh, crap."  
  
"Tell me about it," Alyx agreed and then had to shove one of the bad guys back onto the ground as he attempted to get up and sneak away. 


	3. Chapter 3

-- Tuesday --  
  
I look through the thick glass at my pair of kepts and try not to worry, try to remain clinically detached, but it is so very difficult. It's been almost fifteen hours since we retrieved them from that abandoned building. They are still unconscious. It was necessary at the time and made it easier to run the tests that they would not have enjoyed going through while awake. Originally they were supposed to be separated, like the other six men, but I overrode that order. Neither of them is going to enjoy the accommodations when they wake up, and I'm hoping that being together will ease the stress of being confined. The walls and floor are steel -- easy to clean if contaminated. There's a small but complete bathroom, plus changes of clothing and other linens, which will be destroyed when this is all over. Food will be supplied from the outside, though there is a separate filtered faucet for drinking water.  
  
They are sleeping off the last of the sedatives on the plain beds in the room. Darien just barely fits on his, while Alyx is huddled in a small ball on hers. She's been shaking and shivering for the last several hours as she fights the drugs. She's never handled long-term induced unconsciousness well, and since she adapts to the drugs fairly quickly, she's been doped up at a level that would keep the average person out for a week. Even unconscious she is stubborn. A good thing, I realize -- she's going to need that stubborn streak to deal with what I fear will be coming.  
  
Both of them have been contaminated with the biologic in that case. That unknown biologic. With the recipient dead, we've been unable to do more than seal the damage to the case and leave it attached to Alyx's wrist. Near as they can tell, the self-destruct is still functional, so without the proper code there is, as yet, no safe way to remove it. The Official, Eberts, and Bobby are trying to track down exactly what was being transported so that we can, hopefully, find a cure before it does too much damage. Two of the six men who had been trying to steal the case are already showing flu-like symptoms and the rest, along with Darien and Alyx, have tested positive for exposure. The virus is running through their bloodstreams and doing what it was programmed to do. Kill.  
  
I can only thank god Alyx was wise enough to realize the danger and quarantine everyone in that building until help arrived. No one knew exactly how it was spread, though it appears to have been a short-term airborne that dissipated quickly. No residue was found in the building or on their clothes after the first hour. If it is as deadly as we think it will be, then it would make an interesting assassination weapon. Expose the target, and by the time they fall ill, twelve to twenty-four hours later, the residue would have dissipated. And since it resembles a common illness, no one would suspect a thing without detailed tests. But we are taking no risks -- it could very well be contagious person-to-person, and until we knew for sure they all have to remain quarantined.  
  
I hear the door behind me open and feel a warm presence by my side a moment later. Poor Bobby has been worried sick and pulling out what's left of his hair in frustration. He'd been quarantined for six hours until we were sure he'd not been exposed, and then he went right to work trying to track down not only what they'd been transporting, but how to get that cuff off of Alyx without activating the self-destruct. He has apparently been meeting stone wall after stone wall. The original source is even denying anything about the delivery, much to the Official's irritation.  
  
"How they doing, Keepy?"  
  
I turn away from the window to examine the Bobby's worried countenance. I knew he would trade places with either of them in a heartbeat. It is one of those things that make Bobby -- Bobby. "So far so good. They should be waking up soon."  
  
As if in response to my words, Darien groans and sits up to hold his head in his hands. It's a good bet he has a headache from all the sedatives. Probably similar to a hangover. Bobby sighs in obvious relief to see Darien up and moving. Staggering, actually, as he gets off the bed and makes his shaky way to the bathroom. When he reappears a few minutes later, he's looking a bit pale and his hair is damp. He's wearing a pair of scrub pants and a t-shirt, supplied by the secure lab we're at. I hope he was not overly attached to the clothes he had been wearing, seeing as they are now nothing more than a pile of ashes.  
  
He looks about the dimly lit room blindly for a few minutes, as if trying to figure out where he is. His eyes lock onto the mirror that I am standing behind and then he turns his head to see the small form of Alyx lying on the other bed. Pushing away from the doorframe, he glares at the glass -- I swear he's looking right at me -- and goes to Alyx. Shifting her, he sits at the head of the bed with her sprawled across his lap. As I hoped, giving him something to focus on besides being confined is keeping him reasonably calm. I can see he's worried, though. His fingers run along her face and through her hair as he talks quietly to her. She's still shaking in reaction, and will until she regains consciousness. After about fifteen minutes of silence, he speaks up.  
  
"Keep? Claire, are you there?"  
  
I flip on the mic and answer him. "I'm here Darien. What do you need?"  
  
"Is... Is she all right?" he asks turning to face the mirror.  
  
"Just drugged. She should be waking up soon." He relaxes somewhat at my words, but it's obvious he's still worried. "How are you feeling? Hungry?"  
  
Darien makes a face. "Not now. Maybe after the hangover is done killing me." He looks down at Alyx and then tips his head back against the wall. "How long were we out? Is Hobbes okay?"  
  
Bobby leans over the mic. "Just fine, Fawkes, thanks to you and the kid. A little poking and prodding and they turned me loose."  
  
Bobby's words seem to help and some of the worry leaves Darien's posture. "Darien, it's midmorning Tuesday. So far, you and Alyx are okay."  
  
"But? I hear that 'but' in your voice, Keepy. What about those other guys? How are they?" He looks so very resigned, like he's already come to terms with the idea that he's going to die. Which he isn't, not if I can help it.  
  
"Two are ill, and it's just a matter of time with the others. You and Alyx are a bit more resistant for some reason." He just slumps down a bit and reaches out for Alyx's free hand to hold. "It's a flu-like virus. Similar symptoms, but resistant to the usual drugs."  
  
"Arnaud again?" Darien sounds exasperated.  
  
"Nah, those mooks have nothing to do with the Swiss Miss Mother, but they also haven't told us who they do work for, and aren't likely to in the near future. They were after the package and nothing else," Bobby answers. The mention of Arnaud gives me an idea as to why Darien might be resistant to the virus. I'm going to have to run some more tests, and soon.  
  
"When can we get out of here?"  
  
"It may be a while Darien. I'm sorry, but if there's any chance this is contagious...." I trail off as he closes his eyes and tips his head down. "Rest for a bit. Someone will be in once Alyx wakes up, to draw some more blood samples. Just call if you need anything." He nods and I turn off the mic before closing my eyes and leaning forward against the glass.  
  
"You need to get some sleep, Claire," Bobby says as his hands come to rest on my shoulders.  
  
"After. After I've done everything I can to save them," I answer as I allow myself to enjoy his touch for a moment. His fingers are moving gently, trying to ease the tension in my neck and shoulders. "Any luck on your end?"  
  
"Not enough." He sounds angry and tired himself, but his hands don't stop, even when the door opens and one of the doctors helping hands me a file.  
  
Opening it, I'm not in the least surprised at the data before me. All six are showing symptoms now, and one of the first to fall ill has lapsed into a coma due to a high fever. "Damn," I whisper.  
  
"Bad, Keep?"  
  
"Yes, but I have an idea of where to start."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
It was nearly evening before Alyx began to show signs of consciousness, and by then even the docs were getting worried. They'd both had blood drawn twice more -- his arms ached from all the holes he was now sporting -- but Alyx had slept through it all. Claire had convinced him to eat a few hours ago; the food was unexciting, but did well enough to fill the grumbling hole his stomach had become. He was not thrilled at the HAZMAT-type suits the guys came in wearing -- made him feel like a plague carrier or something. With the exception of a leftover headache from all the drugs, he was feeling pretty good. The shower had helped get rid of the worst of it.  
  
He'd been getting more than a little bored and had requested books, a TV -- heck, a newspaper -- anything to keep his mind off of where they were, why they were here, or the fact that Alyx still had not woken up. But now she was muttering under her breath and shifting slightly.  
  
"Hey sleepy-head, you gonna wake up?" He sat down on the edge of the bed and ran a hand up and down her arm, hoping it might help her reconnect. When Claire said they'd given her a high dose of sedative, she hadn't been kidding. Alyx had been unconscious almost twenty-four hours now.  
  
"Mmmm," was all she managed to say in response. She felt like she was trying to swim through thick mud and getting nowhere fast.  
  
"Come on, you. You've slept more than enough already." He leaned over to whisper in her ear. "You're making me look good here -- this time you overslept."  
  
"D-- Dare?" she mumbled as she tried to force her eyes open, but the glue someone had apparently poured on them was doing its job well.  
  
"Yeah. Wake up, please, you have us all worried." He rolled her onto her back and looked at her. She was a bit paler than usual, but that might just be from all the drugs. He hoped it was just from the drugs.  
  
"Huh?" She cracked her eyes open and shut them quickly as the light stabbed like a couple of really sharp ice picks into her brain. "Ick. I think I'll just go back to sleep."  
  
Darien lifted his head and turned to look at that mirror. "Could you dim the lights, please?" A few seconds later, they did as he asked and he turned back to Alyx. "Come on, rise and shine." Claire had asked him to get Alyx conscious if she began to show signs of waking, and to keep her that way until someone could examine her. "Don't make me drag you into a cold shower."  
  
Alyx chuckled. "Right. Like to see ya try." She got her eyes open and blinked several times to get them to focus. "Hey, did we win?" Her memory was a bit muzzy at the moment, but she had the vague recollection of a gunfight. "And why are we in the padded room's evil twin?"  
  
Darien grinned, feeling a great deal of relief that he did his best not to show. He tapped the heavily sealed case she was still attached to. "Kinda ran into some problems. Remember?"  
  
Alyx lifted her hand to look at the cuff still about it and groaned. "How bad? And why am I still wearing the jewelry that goes 'boom'?"  
  
"Bad enough. One of the other guys died a couple hours ago, but you and I are still okay for some reason." He rattled the metal cord attaching the cuff to the case. "They still don't know how to get if off you without blowing you up. So you're stuck with it for now."  
  
"Marvy." Alyx closed her eyes for a moment as more and more of her came awake. She forced herself into a sitting position and looked about the room with less enthusiasm than Darien had upon regaining consciousness. "'Scuse me."  
  
Darien helped her up and watched as she staggered to the bathroom and shut the door behind her. Going over to the mirrored wall, he tried to see past his reflection without success. "Tell Claire Alyx is awake."  
  
"We will, Mr. Fawkes," the neutral male voice answered. "Expect a visitor within the hour."  
  
Darien just nodded and turned around to wait for Alyx to come back out. When she finally did, several minutes later, she had some color back. "How long was I out?"  
  
"A day," he answered, watching her carefully.  
  
Alyx laughed. "Cute. Just tell me."  
  
Darien moved over to her. "No kidding, you were out almost twenty-four hours. We were all getting more than a bit concerned." When she just stared at him, he steered her over to the bed and got her to sit back down.  
  
"Well.... crap." Alyx wasn't sure what else to say. "And yet I still feel like going back to sleep. They must have really overdone the sedatives this time." She began to shift, feeling the various aches and pains that had developed while she slept slowly come to life and make themselves known. Her arms were pincushion central, but her back was the worst. "Darien, would you take a look at my back? It hurts like hell."  
  
"Uh, sure." Alyx turned and he lifted up her shirt and noticed the prominent bruise that had formed on her lower back right along the spine. "Whoa. Yeah, I bet it hurts." He ran his fingers over the bruise and she hissed in pain.  
  
"Urf, why would they do a lumbar puncture?" He had released the shirt and moved both hands to gently massage the muscles around the bruise, which were tight and stiff. "Ah, damn."  
  
"Hurts? I can stop."  
  
She shook her head. "Don't, those muscles are so damn tight it's not funny." When he chuckled she sighed. "Next time I tell you to stay back, will you listen to me?"  
  
"I don't know. Here we are, alone and in bed, and no Hobbesy to give us 'the lecture.' We could take advantage of the situation." He was concentrating on one spot that was nothing but pure knot and couldn't see her reaction.  
  
"Always wanted to be a film star did you?" Alyx asked in amusement. "There are four cameras in this room to cover all the angles. At least they only have audio in the bathroom. I'm surprised they gave us that much privacy." When his hands froze, she turned to look at him. "You didn't really think they weren't monitoring us, did you? In a high security quarantine facility? Who runs this one? CDC, or is it military?"  
  
"Damn, you'd think I'd know better by now." He leaned in and rested his head against hers for a moment. "I don't know where we are. They brought us here while we were out, and I doubt they'd tell us."  
  
"True, very true." Alyx leaned back against Darien as his hands returned to easing the stiffness in her back. "Well, Claire, what's the good word?" She could sense the Keeper's tired presence on the far side of the glass.  
  
"Very little good, I'm afraid. I still haven't identified the virus strain. We still can't remove the case. And the ... agency you were transporting it for, as well as the one that was supposed to receive it, deny any knowledge of it." There was a long pause. "So far you and Darien are showing no symptoms, but that can't last much longer. You two have proven to be somewhat resistant, but the last round of blood tests...." Claire trailed off. "We're doing everything we can."  
  
During Claire's speech, Darien had wrapped his arms about Alyx. "How about some books or something? Give us something to do?" Alyx asked.  
  
"Yes, they'll be arriving in a few minutes. You'll have to endure another round of blood being drawn, and Alyx, you need to eat something," Claire was surprised when they didn't really react. "Are you two feeling all right?"  
  
"Just fine, Keepy. And we'd like to stay that way." Darien answered for the both of them.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
--- Wednesday ---  
  
I've made some progress. Not enough to cure them, but a start. Darien's comment about Arnaud, coupled with the fact he seems to be resistant to the virus, made me go back to the lab at the Agency and check the samples I had on hand of the flu virus Arnaud had created. I had been working on a vaccine, just in case the strain ever appeared in the population at large. When I arrived, however, I discovered several of the samples were missing.  
  
When I confronted the Official, he admitted to having given other agencies -- including the CDC -- the samples for research purposes. I wanted to scream at him, but at the time I was too tired. Once this is all over, though, I may very well have a chat with him. That the samples were farmed out to other places for study makes some sense, but not informing me... that is what makes me the most angry. Just now, though I don't have the time.  
  
There are indeed some similarities between the two viruses, leading me to believe this one may be a redesign of the Arnaud Special -- the nickname Darien gave it at the time. There are differences, though. The original strain was designed to target Darien almost exclusively, and the antibodies I used to cure Darien then are not enough of a match to help in this situation.  
  
I know, because I tried. I gave the healthiest of the remaining sick men the antibodies that worked for Arnaud's virus, and it seemed to help -- at first. The fever came back down, and the fluid building up in their lungs began to recede, but then the virus fought back and they relapsed, became even more ill than they had been, and died within hours.  
  
Leaving only Darien and Alyx left.  
  
Darien's resistance makes some sense now. Since he survived the Arnaud Special -- the current strain's cousin -- his body has an inkling of how to fight it. But, based on what happened with the two I tried to help, his immune system will eventually lose the fight and crash. Which is why I wasn't all that surprised early this morning when I was told he'd begun to run a low-grade fever. He had complained of the typical body aches and some mild nausea, but amazingly enough has not worsened.  
  
Alyx is confusing all of us. Her system is so unique, so completely different, that I'm not sure what is going on. According to the tests I ran, she should be very ill, but, except for her back bothering her from the lumbar puncture, she's fine.  
  
A few questions to her have given me more data to ponder, and explain why her records have been so difficult to track down: there aren't any. Her parents -- both of whom held multiple doctorates in various medical fields -- took over her medical care at about age five. She could remember having all the usual childhood illnesses -- colds, the flu, ear infections -- but once she reached adolescence she dealt with a bout of migraines, and then nothing since.  
  
Something in her system changed dramatically during those teenage years, leaving her highly resistant to most, if not all, illnesses. She even commented, via her telepathy -- not wanting Darien to overhear, at a guess -- that her husband used to complain that while he would catch whatever stray bug or virus the kids had brought home, she never did. That had usually resulted in another beating, her being healthy somehow justifying putting her back into what he perceived as her place.  
  
It appears Alyx is naturally resistant, thanks to the alterations that were made to her as an infant. Though what exactly that means in this situation I have no way of knowing yet. Whether or not it will save her is yet to be seen.  
  
It is swiftly turning into a good news/bad news day. Through Bobby's "Hobbes-net" we have learned that the case contained several samples, including not only the virus, but also the vaccine. If I could get into the case, I could save both their lives with little trouble. As with Arnaud's creation, all I would need is a sample of the original strain, to match the viral proteins with the antibodies. The one that mimics the synthetic peptides the closest would be the one with the greatest chance of fighting off the virus. They could go from near death to healthy within hours.  
  
The problem is that we still can't get into the case safely. The deactivation code for the self-destruct is still an unknown, and on top of that we need a separate code to unlock the case itself. We tried to gain access through the bullet holes, in hopes of retrieving an undamaged sample, but with no success. All we did manage to do -- with a fiber optic camera -- was learn that there are indeed several samples still intact, as is the explosive device. Alyx confirmed that the power supply is still active -- she can feel it -- but she can't really manipulate it, at least not without a high degree of risk.  
  
She admits she could turn it off easily, but since we have no idea if that would trigger the explosives inside, we've decided against it for now. And since the electronics to the self-destruct itself are not currently active, she can't do a thing with them. Feeding some of her own energy through the device might very well trigger the explosion, and while she would probably be able to contain it and confine the damage to nothing but the case and its contents, I told her no. I didn't explain why, but I have the feeling she knows. Knows I wouldn't leave her chained to its dead weight and dangerous cargo without a very good reason.  
  
It is very frustrating. What I need is right there, in that case I can see through the glass dividing the two rooms, and I cannot get to it.  
  
I wish I could do more, but right now all I can do is run tests and hope secondary methods work to prolong their health until I have everything I need. I have made sure they have things to keep their minds off what is happening. A television was the one thing I couldn't get for them, but I provided books of various types -- though it looks liked the person given the task simply raided the bookshelves at the nearest 7-11, since they are mainly Harlequin romances and bad science fiction novels -- as well as board games and several decks of cards. Alyx also asked for pen and paper, which I provided willingly enough. I can only hope she doesn't want them to write out her last will and testament or the equivalent. That thought is just too depressing, partially because I am beginning to fear it might be necessary.  
  
I also left some basic medical gear in there, items they both know how to use such as a blood pressure cuff, a thermometer, and a stethoscope, along with several bottles of electrolyte drink. The drink is better for Darien, now that he's actually fallen ill, and easier than trying to deal with an IV line in these conditions. Several of the other patients suffered seizures and violent dreams, resulting in the lines being pulled out of their arms before we were able to restrain them. Difficult to deal with, and Darien is not nearly ill enough to warrant it yet anyway.  
  
I just wish I could get them talking to each other again.  
  
Something happened between them during the overnight hours, while I was catching a nap that I hadn't even planned on taking. My body demanded and forced me into the sleep it required to function. I've reviewed the tapes, but I'm still not sure exactly what occurred. Darien was reading quietly, apparently wide-awake, while Alyx lay curled up beside him. Giving comfort to each other through simple contact. We had overdone the sedatives, and she was still trying to flush them from her system. She'd stumbled around groggy for most of the evening, until I finally relented and allowed her to sleep off the remainder. The audio didn't pick up anything from her, but at a guess she had begun talking in her sleep. Whatever it was had caused Darien some concern, and he attempted to wake her.  
  
Alyx's reaction surprised both him and myself with its sheer violence. After jerking awake, she scrambled away from him and dumped both him and the bed over onto the floor. She ended up over by the door, looking frantic, while Darien stared her in complete shock and confusion. Eventually she sank down to the floor and huddled upon herself, while Darien got to his feet and straightened the bed. It took quite a bit of effort on his part -- I know how heavy they are, and therefore know Alyx must have used her powers to dump it over.  
  
When he finally turned back to her, walked over and squatted down next to her, she tensed and it took several minutes before she relaxed enough to lift her head and look at him. Once again they kept their voices down, perhaps communicating more mind-to-mind than vocally, to keep the discussion private. I could see Darien getting more and more upset and frustrated, while Alyx simply closed herself off, growing colder and harder. Eventually she got to her feet and told him, in no uncertain terms, that it was none of his business and to stay away from her. Alyx then left him crouched on the floor, while she spent most of the next hour in the bathroom -- hiding.  
  
She played with the audio signal in there just enough that we were able to keep track of what she was doing, but that was all. Anything she may have spoken aloud was distorted so badly no one has any idea what she said. Not that it's of great importance. I think she was simply arguing with herself. She cares about Darien far more than she is willing to admit, and it is a good bet the harsh words she threw down caused her almost as much pain as they did him.  
  
And they did indeed hurt him. He stayed in the same position for several minutes before finally heaving a long sigh and retreating to his bed, where he pretended to read for the duration of her time hiding in the bathroom. They studiously avoided looking at or speaking to each other when she reappeared, and for a while I reconsidered my decision to keep them together. Perhaps it was doing nothing more than forcing an issue that neither was really ready to deal with. Alyx spent a few minutes stretching muscles, which had become stiff and sore thanks to all the tests we had run, before choosing a deck of cards and playing a complex version of solitaire on the floor near the small table that had been set up for their meals.  
  
Less than an hour later, Darien fell ill.  
  
Alyx stayed to the side when the doctor came in to examine Darien, and afterwards she helped out as much as he would allow her to. She brought him drinks, and took his temp and blood pressure when requested by those on the far side of the glass. Just simple things that make this situation easier and save time -- it takes a minimum of ten minutes for one of us to get into the self-contained suits. She has also been placing towels dampened with cold water on his forehead and neck whenever the fever chooses to peak, helping his body fight the virus that is attempting to win the battle for control.  
  
Darien is miserable, but not anywhere as bad as the others got, and he has been improving somewhat for the last several hours. He's taken up that book again, one of the trashy romance novels, and is sitting up reading while Alyx moves slowly through one of her routines. She has combined what looks like yoga and tai chi, achieving slow stretching movements and controlled poses that, if she did not have an audience, would probably include demonstrations of her other talents, such as unique and finely controlled quicksilvering, and telekinetic practice.  
  
As I watch, she folds herself over, setting that damn case on the floor next to her, and places her palms flat on the floor before wrapping her arms about her legs. Her shirt rides up slightly, and I can see the bruise the lumbar puncture caused. I had thought at first that it might have been poorly done, but the same doctor had performed all of them and she was the only one to suffer the severe bruising. I have the feeling she expected it, since she just waves off the discomfort.  
  
As she begins to straighten, she starts shaking. For an instant I think something is wrong, but after a moment I realize she's laughing quietly, her eyes twinkling with merriment. She looks over her shoulder at Darien, who is doing his best to not crack a smile and keeping his eyes glued on the book in his hands. I suddenly realize that they've probably been talking for quite a while, perhaps him reading to her via a light telepathic connection, though they haven't spoken a word aloud for the last hour or so. Not that I can recall, anyway.  
  
"You're right," Darien says aloud, "it is poorly written. Maybe we should edit and try to improve it a bit."  
  
Alyx grins and shifts the case slightly, actually holding the handle instead of letting it dangle off the metal cord that is her leash to it. Her cheeks are bright red, which is odd, and she blinks, her smile fading.  
  
"Umm, is it hot in here or is it just me?" she asks quietly, then collapses.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
The book fell from Darien's hands, forgotten, as he rushed to her side. She was still conscious, though just barely, which surprised him since she'd hit the floor rather solidly. Steel to skull was not a sound he enjoyed hearing at any time, but the fact that it was her skull drove all rational thought from his mind. At first he was afraid to touch her, but when she moaned and tried to sit up he found himself able to move and lifted her up, annoying metal case and all, and carried her to her bed. She wasn't just a little warm, she was downright hot to the touch.  
  
"Claire! She's burning up!" Darien shouted to the air.  
  
"All right, Darien. Calm down. Someone will be in there shortly." Claire's voice was carefully controlled.  
  
"No, Claire. You! I want you in here." Darien stalked over to the mirror and banged a fist against it hard enough to rattle the thick glass. The aches and discomfort he'd been feeling seemed to have vanished for the moment, and he had to take second to calm himself before parts started vanishing.  
  
There was a wait that seemed like an eternity to him, but then Claire answered, "All right. Give me twenty minutes. Do what you can to get her temp down."  
  
Darien pushed away from the mirror and rushed to the bathroom. He proceeded to soak several towels in cold water and wring out the excess, before bringing them out to stuff around Alyx, just as she had been doing for him for most of the day. He didn't think she'd really care about the fact he was getting her shirt soaked in the process. When he got around to laying one across her forehead, she opened her eyes and attempted to focus on him.  
  
"Sorry," she mumbled. Everything hurt. She hadn't felt this awful since being forced to go through withdrawal from the crap they'd kept her doped up on at that lab, and it didn't help that her shielding was suddenly more than a little iffy.  
  
"Sorry? Whatever for?" The initial adrenaline rush had worn off, leaving him feeling less than healthy himself, but just looking at her he could tell she was far worse. "Claire will be here in a few minutes, you just try to look alive till then."  
  
Alyx chuckled softly. "Easier said than done." Part of her just wanted to close her eyes and fall. To just let this happen and have it all over with, finally. "Dare, how do you do it?"  
  
"Do what?" He gently picked up her free hand and wrapped his far larger one about it. There wasn't much else he could do until Claire had checked Alyx over.  
  
"Keep going every day when you hate it so damn much?" Her voice grew slurred by the end, fighting to stay conscious, knowing she needed to stay conscious for now.  
  
"I... I don't hate all of it," he answered very softly, and watched as she fought to keep her eyes open. "Come on, you. Stay awake for me." He reached up and turned over the towel that rested on her forehead. The side that had been against her skin was warm already, but she wasn't sweating. It was one of those dry fevers that can be so very misleading and dangerous. Just as his own had been.  
  
"Yet, most days you still wonder why you bother to get out of bed." Alyx could feel his shock and surprise, even as he tried to keep his expression neutral. Her shielding was so thin at the moment that there was little she couldn't pick up from him, especially with physical contact. With all the energy she could muster, she pulled her hand from his and felt his presence, his thoughts and emotions, fade to a less prominent level. One she could deal with a bit easier. "Sorry," she apologized again. "It might be better if you stay away."  
  
"You gonna start that crap again?" Darien made adjustments to the towels about her, but was careful to avoid contact with her skin.  
  
"This is not something you need to deal with," Alyx struggled to get out. It was becoming increasingly difficult to breathe, never mind speak. She fought the urge to cough, fearing that once begun it wouldn't stop. "Dare..."  
  
"Enough, damn it, just..." he sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. "Just shut up for now." Her running hot and cold was nothing new, but right now she was just being foolish. "You can't even sit up on your own, and no, don't you dare try." Darien set one hand on her shoulder as a precaution, but all she did was swallow hard and nod slightly. "Worry about it later. You... you've made your point." One hand came up to rest against one cheek, which was amazingly flushed and pale at the same time.  
  
Her eyes fluttered shut as her breathing became even more harsh. She leaned into his touch, not caring or even really noticing the rush of emotions she was picking up. She wanted what little comfort she could allow herself. She knew she shouldn't, but she was unable to prevent herself from drifting off into slumber, her body demanding she rest for a while as it fought its own battle for survival.  
  
"Alyx? Damn it, Alyx, don't do this." Darien tried in vain to wake her, wanted to shake her till her eyes opened, wanted to fix everything and make it all better. He pressed gentle fingers to her throat to find her pulse. It was far from the slow and steady beat he'd felt one or twice before. Her breath wheezing in and out harshly did not help his confidence any, either.  
  
She was going to die, and he was going to have to sit here and watch it happen. Part of him wasn't surprised; in fact, he'd kind of been expecting something like this to happen all along. It was just the way his life went, especially with women. The only one to have stayed around recently was the one he hadn't really wanted -- Claire.  
  
The door to the room slid open then and Claire entered, but not alone. There were two others with her, one of whom was pushing a metal cart laden with various pieces of equipment, only few of which he recognized. The other was, much to his surprise, Hobbes.  
  
"How ya doing, Fawkes?" Hobbes asked and waved for Darien to move away from the bed so that Claire and the other doc could get to work.  
  
Darien sank onto one of the chairs at the small table, where the various amusements were currently stacked. "Oh, just great, Hobbes."  
  
"She'll make it, Fawkes. She's more than tough enough to fight off a little cold." Hobbes' attempt to make Darien feel more at ease about the situation fell flat. "It's taking longer than we thought to get people to cough up any info. We think they'd rather have the two of you out of the game than admit they screwed up."  
  
"So what do we do? Claire apparently can't fix this, not in time anyway. Hell, I can't leave in case I infect the entire city with this damn bug, and I can't just watch...." He stopped, refusing to complete that thought.  
  
"If we can get into that case safely, everything Claire needs is inside. That's why that mook came in with the fancy camera. There are intact samples. Of course, the bomb is still working just fine, too. These damn electronic ones are a bitch to deal with." Hobbes watched a faint look of hope cross Darien's features. "What?"  
  
"Damn. I am an idiot sometimes. Hobbes, if I give you a list, do you think you can get me some gear?" He looked right into Hobbes' eyes. "Some of the pieces are less-than-legal."  
  
Understanding dawned. "You think you can crack that code?"  
  
Darien shrugged. "Will it hurt to try? Look at her, Hobbes, do you really think she's gonna make it if I don't?" He tipped his head to the side. "'Sides, I do have some experience cracking complicated locks."  
  
"Huh. All right. Give me the list and I'll see what I can do," Hobbes answered, actually feeling a bit more confident as Darien grabbed the pen and paper that sat on the table and began writing. When he handed it over a few minutes later, it had a list of everything he could possibly need.  
  
Hobbes looked it over, shooting a look or two of surprise at Darien, then nodded. "I can probably get most of this, but it'll take a few. I should have it by morning."  
  
Darien turned to look at the pair working on Alyx.  
  
Hobbes got to his feet. "Is there anything you need? Maybe some real food? I know, some chicken soup from my deli. They lace it with garlic and the matzo..." He attempted to kiss his fingers but only smashed them into the heavy plastic of the mask, causing Darien to smile. "It'll do more good for you than the anti... whatevers the Keep keeps going on about."  
  
Darien did an internal check and decided that might not be a good idea about now. He was still feeling crappy enough to want to steer clear from even semi-solid food. "No thanks, Hobbes, better wait till the Keep says it's okay."  
  
"True. I'll get to work on this. The Fat Man is gonna love this solution." Hobbes made it plain that was far from the truth.  
  
"Bobby, unless he can get the code, there is no choice. I need those samples as soon as possible." Claire had moved over to join them, and Darien realized the suits' radios must be on the same frequency.  
  
"I'll do my best Claire, but you know how he can be." Hobbes could see the worry on Claire's face, and had overheard most of the conversation between her and Dr. Kent. Alyx was a mess and had yet to hit the worst of it. "I'll get the gear one way or another by morning." Hobbes made his decision. He'd do it for Fawkes, so how could he do less for the kid?  
  
"Thanks, Bobby," Darien said softly. "Now get moving." He pointed at the door, and Hobbes grinned and did as ordered. When Hobbes was gone and the door once again sealed, Darien turned to Claire.  
  
"I need to examine you as well," Claire said to him as he focused on her.  
  
"Yeah, okay." He moved over to the bed and they went through the routine. When she drew the blood, he hissed in pain. "Gonna have to poke someplace else next time, Keep. My arms are getting damn sore."  
  
"Sorry, but it's necessary." Claire marked the test tube and then set the sample on the tray next to the three they had taken from Alyx. "How are you feeling? The truth."  
  
"'Bout the same as lunchtime. Less nausea. Bit of a headache to go with the rest. Not too bad, considering everyone else is dead." All true; he didn't understand why he was feeling as well as he was and didn't really care. "Alyx?"  
  
"Not good. We're giving her what help we can, but it will only prolong the inevitable at this point," Claire answered truthfully.  
  
"Prolong is good." He met Claire's eyes. "Tell me you can fix this. That when I get that damn case open, you can make her better."  
  
"And what about you?" Claire asked in curiosity.  
  
"What about me? I'm not the one looking half-de...." He choked off the word, not able to say it. To make it real.  
  
Claire just nodded. "She'll be in and out of consciousness. Try not to worry too much. Someone will be on call for emergencies." Claire was planning on saying more, but Dr. Kent got her attention just then.  
  
"She's coming around, Dr. Keeply."  
  
There might have been only a few feet separating the beds, but Darien still got there first and took an overly-warm hand into his.  
  
Alyx tried swim up from the depths her mind had fallen into. It was so damn hot. Heat and.... flames everywhere. It was odd to be dreaming about flames, fire, and she hated it. Hated the images and memories, already stirred up by her conversation days before with the Keeper, which surged closer to the surface. Though why she seemed to be standing in forest that was nothing but flames confused her. That was not a typical scenario of her dreams, nor were the man-shaped pyres, though the scents and screams were all too familiar. When a burning car suddenly made an appearance, she fled from it, her eyes snapping open and her entire body jerking in reaction.  
  
Darien saw her regain consciousness with a suddenness that was shocking. The look of momentary horror in her eyes was frightening to him and made him wonder what had been going on in her mind as they tried to bring her back to reality. "Hey, easy there. It's all right."  
  
Alyx could feel everything he was through the hand wrapped coolly about hers. Then she suddenly got more than she expected. It had happened on a couple of other occasions, which she'd told no one about, and she had learned that she could not stop it, could not fight it, and was forced to simply let the impressions roll across her. Right now she didn't even have the energy to complain about it, could barely understand it. She got just enough to know Darien would be okay, would walk away from this and get on with his life, would survive to fight another day. She whimpered, trying to pull her hand out of his, to break off the flood of information, but couldn't.  
  
"Alyx, relax, you're stable for now," Claire said in a calm voice.  
  
"Shot," Alyx croaked out, her throat incredibly sore.  
  
"I've given you several that should help you fight this," Claire began to explain, but Alyx shook her head, stopping quickly when it made her nauseous. "What then?"  
  
"Darien needs a shot," Alyx explained.  
  
"Huh?" Darien glanced at his wrist and saw he had four remaining green. "She's right." He showed Claire.  
  
Alyx struggled to sit up a bit more. It felt like she was trying to breathe underwater, and Dr. Kent adjusted the pillows behind her until she was partially sitting. "Get him out of here."  
  
"What?" both Claire and Darien asked at the same time.  
  
"He's fine, and he doesn't need to watch ... this." Alyx waved her other hand slightly, rattling the cable that still chained her to the case. "Run the blood test. You'll see."  
  
Darien caught the look between the two of them. After a second, Claire nodded slightly. "Let me verify it first."  
  
"I'm not leaving," Darien proclaimed.  
  
Claire grabbed him by the upper arm and dragged him away from Alyx, who sighed in relief to have his hold upon her hand loosened. To have the stream of thoughts and emotions stopped for the moment.  
  
"Darien, if she's right and you're fine, there is no reason for you to stay." Claire got him to focus on her. "And every reason for you to leave."  
  
"No, damn it," he snapped at a harsh whisper. "The Fat Man ordered me to protect her, to keep her alive at any cost, and I intend to do that." He saw Claire's look tighten and knew she was going to argue. "I have to stay till Hobbes brings the gear. I'm probably the only one who might stand a chance of getting her out of that thing." He didn't give her the chance to make any commentary about his skills. He lowered his voice to a harsh whisper. "Damn it, Claire, I'm not giving her up without a fight."  
  
"All right," Claire relented, "but you are getting a shot of counteragent now." He could help care for Alyx, although she could probably argue the point about him getting her free of the cuff. "Go on. I know you want to go worry at her."  
  
Darien did just as she said and perched on the edge of the bed, with Alyx's hand once again in his. 


	4. Chapter 4

~~Thursday ~~  
  
My arms laden with reports and test results, I walk into the Official's office to find both him and Albert working on something. I find I don't really care what. The Official insisted that I come in and make a report in person on Alyx and Darien's condition. Annoying as all hell right now, especially at this godforsaken hour. The security at the protected lab is very, very high, making the simple acts of coming and going a pain in the ass. The CDC also doesn't like the locations of its high security contaminant labs and storage facilities to be advertised to the public at large, so this particular facility is buried in a small mountain about an hour southeast of the city. The facility is one of the most secure of its type, and it would take a major earthquake to do any appreciable damage to it.  
  
My main concern is being away from Alyx for such a long period of time. While she had, somehow, been correct about Darien's state of heath, she was doing less than well herself. We are using every secondary method, pulling every trick in the book to keep her stable until we can get access to the contents of the case. We feed her liquid forms of fever-reducing drugs, pack her in ice to keep her temperature down, and load her up on expectorants and decongestants to help keep her lungs clear. Every time she lays flat, she finds herself nearly drowning due to the fluid buildup in her lungs, so Darien keeps her propped up with pillows and blankets, keeps her as calm and amused as possible, and tries to not let his worry spill over onto her.  
  
Darien is recovering, without any more help from us. There haven't even been any complications with the quicksilver this time, since the gland didn't fall ill or evidence any temporary mutations like had occurred with Arnaud's flu. He'll still need to spend a few days getting his strength back, but the worst is past for him, at least where his health is concerned.  
  
I don't give the Official a chance to speak first. "Has Bobby been able to get the equipment Darien requested?"  
  
The Official and Eberts glance at one another for a second before Eberts begins. "Officially, Agent Hobbes' request for certain items has been denied."  
  
"Unofficially, there is nothing we can do to stop him from doing what he wants with said items," the Official says, completing their combined thought.  
  
Much like Darien, I am convinced they practice this, but the news is good enough. Bobby will have everything, I have complete confidence in that. "Is there a reason this report needed to be done in person? I shouldn't be away from Alyx for very long."  
  
They do that annoying glance again. "We would rather this discussion remain private, as some of our others have not," Eberts answers, once they are done communicating with their version of telepathy.  
  
I am not very surprised to learn there have been people listening in on the supposedly secure communications. It is almost unavoidable in this business. But who would concern themselves with two sick agents, and why? Those were the real questions. "What was the reason you had Alyx play courier for this? Was this some odd test of loyalty for her?" I am truly curious. While I know Alyx isn't all that happy here, I also know she made her choice and has stood behind it one hundred percent. When she signed that agreement with the Official, she had every intention of meeting its conditions and still does, even as she lays dying because she was just doing her job.  
  
The Official grunts something unintelligible and removes his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose. "No, it was definitely not a test of *her* loyalty."  
  
It dawns on me then. "It was a test of yours. Wasn't it? To see if you'd put her in a compromising situation for the greater good." I know some of what has been going on since Alyx returned from Newport. The Official has asked me to ... exaggerate the severity of her injuries on a few occasions, and when I confronted him about it, he explained it was to keep her from being sent to work temporarily for another agency. The few other times it has happened since, I didn't ask and simply did it. There is obviously something going on behind the scenes, and I have the oddest feeling he was actually trying to protect "her" more than just his "investment."  
  
He nods. "And it backfired on everyone involved." His voice lowers. "She should not have to pay for the greed of others."  
  
"I need access to the virus. Without it, she may not last the day," I tell him truthfully and he shakes his head while laughing harshly.  
  
"They can't, without admitting their error. You will have to hope Fawkes can gain access to the contents of the case. We are reasonably sure the samples that remain are legitimate," Eberts rattles off in that smooth, calm voice of his. He has very nearly perfected the art of emotionlessness. He still slips up now and then, still makes the occasional comment out of turn, still is sometimes human.  
  
"Hope is all I have left," I say, and that facade of cool uncaring on the Official's face cracks. That happens so rarely that, once again, it surprises me. He may use them, like pieces on a chessboard, but he also cares in his own way.  
  
"Doctor, I want you to do everything you can to keep her alive. If we have to take a crowbar to the package, I want it done. Do you understand me?" The anger and pain in his voice silences mine for the moment and I can only nod.  
  
Eberts comes to my rescue. "Hobbes should be arriving within the hour, according to his schedule."  
  
"Ah, yes. I'll be going, then, and I'll call as soon as I know anything." They haven't even asked for the papers I'm holding, but that's all right. Bringing me here to give a report was a pretense. They wanted me to understand the true situation: that Alyx had been set up to make sure the Official was loyal. The thought that it may very well be the cause of her untimely demise sickens me. There are days I hate the games that are played in this business.  
  
I don't look back, but once I'm out the door and down the hallway, I stop to lean against the wall. I'm tired and afraid. Afraid for Alyx, afraid for Darien, and, maybe, afraid a bit for myself as well.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
With a groan that sounded far more like rusted gears grinding together, Alyx pried her eyes open to meet the concerned, brown-eyed gaze of Darien. He was placing a new ice filled towel against her forehead. He found it annoyingly ironic that, just a few weeks ago, they would have done just about anything to get her warm and then gotten stuck in the middle of a blizzard. Now they had to wrap her in ice to prevent her from burning up from the inside. "Hey you, Hobbes'll be in soon. We're waiting for the Keep to finish getting ready."  
  
Alyx swallowed and tried not to shiver. She'd been dreaming of fire again, could even still smell the memory of smoke, and another, far more acrid scent that she couldn't identify. "Hurts," she got past a dry throat.  
  
"Here." Darien handed her the cup of water and helped her to drink it. She was so very weak right now. He'd hated to wake her, but they needed her conscious while they worked on the cuff in case there were problems. "Is it your back again?"  
  
"Wrist," she answered and lifted her left hand up to show him. "I can't get it to stop."  
  
Darien carefully took her hand. She'd explained some hours ago that her control was shot, and she was just barely keeping minimum shields in place. At first he thought that the cuff, which was fit intentionally snug, had begun to chafe her, rubbing the skin raw, but a closer look revealed that to not be the case. Somehow, the small amount of electricity running through it was burning her and causing her wrist to swell until it was tight against the cuff. "Crap. Can I do anything?"  
  
"Just get it off me." Her eyes slipped shut and she sagged for a moment before gathering what little strength she could. "And soon. I... I'm not feeling too well, Dare." It was an understatement, but somehow she knew that the truth was not something he wanted to hear.  
  
Grabbing another towel, he tossed some ice into it from the cooler that had been brought in and laid it over her wrist. He needed the swelling down so that he could work on the cuff. "Alyx...don't give up on me, okay? Fight this."  
  
"Why? Aside from keeping the bomb from going off." Alyx began shifting, knowing she would need to be in a different position for Darien to work on the cuff. With Darien assisting her, she got herself settled sideways on the bed, leaning back against the cool metal wall, propped up with pillows. She brought her legs up and crossed them in front of her, trying to ignore all the aches and stiffness that had invaded. She was betting she looked about ten times worse than she felt, and she felt horrible. It was strange -- she'd never have expected him to be so willing to help, the Official's orders or not. "I'm the only one left. Does it really matter at this point?"  
  
Darien was stunned for moment, and then became angry. "Of course it matters. Do you really think I... that any of us could just sit back and let you die?" Alyx met his eyes for a moment and then turned away. Reaching out, he grasped her chin and made her face him. "If you do, you're a fool. I..." He shook his head, realizing that the words that had almost left his mouth would be the last ones she wanted to hear right now. "Something bad happened to you, I get that now, but you wouldn't be able to care about any of us if it really mattered anymore."  
  
When Alyx glared back at him defiantly, he released her. "How can you care the least little bit, and yet not trust?"  
  
"'Cause they're not the same, Darien." She removed the towel from her forehead, the ice already half-melted, and flung it away. "I've learned my lesson. Had it pounded into me time and time again. Don't trust. Not even myself." She was forced to stop as another round of coughing assaulted her, leaving her even weaker than before. "Darien, I gave up on humanity a long time ago. The only thing that kept me going was my children. I had very little life beyond them, and just when I thought I might be able to do the one thing..." She trailed off. "It's not important."  
  
"What?" She looked away again. "You can talk to me about anything, Alyx. I just want to understand." This time he didn't make her face him.  
  
"It's not important, Darien. 'Cause instead of ... doing that, I ended up here. I even have perfect strangers betraying me. My own government." Her voice was harsh, raw-sounding by the end, but she was also cold and in control. "I won't go through that again."  
  
The arrival of Bobby and Claire forestalled any argument he might have made on the subject. Climbing off the bed, he went to the cart of gear Bobby had rolled in, while Claire moved to Alyx to examine her. Darien picked up the piece of electronics he wanted to begin with, as well as a small set of tools, and then met Hobbes' gaze through the plastic shield of the protective suit.  
  
"Sorry to interrupt, my friend." Enough of the conversation had been overheard via the pick-ups in the room for Bobby to have a damn good idea how his far-too-caring partner was feeling right about now.  
  
Darien shrugged. "You're right, I can't force her, but I can't just let her give up either."  
  
"This has nothing to do with the Fat Man's orders, does it?" He had overheard Darien's comment to Claire while he was changing yesterday evening. The speaker in his helmet had picked up the conversation between the Keep and Darien.  
  
"Actually, it does. I'll protect her from herself if I have to." Darien gave Hobbes wry grin. "Just like you've done for me a time or two."  
  
Hobbes studied him for a long moment and then gave a quick nod of understanding. It was looking like Fawkes had learned a few things over the long months they'd been partnered together. A few of the right things. "You ready to do this?"  
  
"No choice, Hobbes. It's now or never." Noting another piece of gear that he hadn't even thought of, he grabbed it and carried all the items back over to the bed where Claire was still sitting next to Alyx.  
  
"How's she doing, Keepy?" Bobby asked. He rolled the cart closer, so that the items would be in easy reach for Darien if and when he needed them.  
  
Claire looked at Alyx, who was still conscious, though barely. "Tell 'em."  
  
"Tell us what?" Hobbes asked as he dragged over one of the chairs to sit at the foot of the bed.  
  
Instead of answering Claire got to her feet so that Darien could sit down and get to work.  
  
"Keep, what's going on with the kid?" Hobbes asked again, and watched as she shook her head and mouthed 'not now' to him. With a soft growl of irritation at being kept in the dark, he turned to watch Fawkes as he got to work. He'd put on the visor with the small but powerful light mounted on it. Better than shoving a mag-lite in his mouth, like he usually did. Then he glanced at Alyx, who was looking right at him. He'd avoided looking at her simply because what he saw frightened him. She was dying and she knew it, was facing it with little fear for herself, was hanging on simply for Fawkes' sake at this point. He was about to say something, but she shook her head slightly and he closed his mouth, leaving the words unsaid.  
  
Darien got himself comfortable and moved the ice pack off Alyx's wrist, relieved to see the swelling had gone down a bit. He was able to move the cuff until the seam he'd noted earlier was where he wanted it. Then he glanced at Alyx. "You ready?"  
  
"Yes," she answered softly. The last time she'd been conscious, they'd discussed what he intended to do, and he'd asked for her help. Because of the way she could manipulate electronics, he was hoping she could speed up the process a bit. Plus, she would be able to monitor the trigger for the bomb and warn them if he had accidentally set it off. Though at this point she wasn't sure if she'd be able to contain the blast if they did. She could barely focus her eyes on Darien, and her mind was fully occupied with keeping her shields up and monitoring. With her shields as weak as they were, she had no choice but to monitor anyway, since she was picking up every bit of electronics in the room and then some. But doing anything more than that might be a serious challenge.  
  
He wanted to say any of a dozen things to make her feel better, to give her some sort of confidence in him, heck, to boost his own confidence. But he remained silent, flipping on the light and focusing it on the cuff. Pulling out one of the small tools, he gently went to work prying the covering of the cuff. It was stubborn at first and took a bit more force than he liked, but he got it off and was able to examine the interior. Lots of wires, he was dismayed to realize, and a microchip that was its brain. Setting aside the tools, he picked up the electronic pad with the thin metal probe attached and began to test the various connections to get an idea of what was going on inside the device. For about half the wires, he couldn't get a reading strong enough to register and sighed.  
  
"I'm going to have to strip some of these wires."  
  
"Okay," Alyx responded to let him know she'd heard him. "They're talking to one another."  
  
"What?" Darien asked as he carefully removed the red covering from one of the wires.  
  
"Ahh, there's another chip buried in the case. They talk to one another, and they are currently discussing a hell of a lot because of what you're doing." Alyx had closed her eyes to concentrate, her head tipped to the side as she 'listened' to what the chips were saying to each other.  
  
"Alyx..." Darien had stopped what he was doing for the moment, not wanting to take any more risks than necessary.  
  
"You're fine for now. My heartbeat being a bit erratic isn't helping much." She made the statement in the same tone of voice she would have announced the time of day, and she caught the sudden wave of fear that came off of him. The one that flowed off of Bobby was nearly as strong, but since she wasn't in direct contact with him it was easier to deal with. Claire was being very careful to keep her emotions in control, and Alyx was extremely thankful for that. Darien's hands dropped away and began to shake slightly. "Darien." He lifted his head to meet her eyes. "Don't stop now."  
  
"Right, sorry." He got himself back under control and stripped of sections of the other wires, allowing him the access he needed. Bringing the probe back, he began to hunt for the connection he needed. It seemed to take forever, but couldn't have been more than five minutes. "Aha, gotcha."  
  
"Fawkes?" Hobbes asked quietly, not wanting to break Darien's concentration.  
  
"Found the connection I want." Reaching for the tray which Hobbes rolled closer to him he picked up what looked like a computer pad that included an number generator. It wasn't the piece he had used for many years, but was similar enough that he could work it with ease. "Alyx, you keeping an eye on things?" Her eyes were open, but she looked exhausted, slumped down into the pillows stuffed around her. Her breathing was a frightening rattle.  
  
She coughed softly, fighting the urge to double over and clear her lungs as much as she could. "On it," she mumbled.  
  
After attaching the alligator clips to the correct spots, he flipped the switch and the little computer pad starting searching for the correct code. Since they had no idea how many numbers were needed, he'd set it for the maximum it could generate -- twelve digits -- and let it go. Now all he could do was wait. He kept alternating between watching the pad and Alyx as the machine seemed to run through various combinations at a crawl, searching for the correct one.  
  
Keeping her left arm perfectly still, Alyx shifted and placed her right hand atop the computer pad. She looked at Darien for a second before her eyes unfocused and she switched her attention to the electronics. She sped up the search. Within minutes, it had the correct numbers locked and sent the signal to the cuff, which instantly shut down and separated, falling from her wrist and onto Darien's leg, where it hung from its leash to the case.  
  
"The case," Alyx ordered, meeting his eyes again. He responded by dragging it over and setting her right hand atop it. As she had suspected, there was a default for the bomb that was waiting for a command sequence to be tapped into the keypad on the case itself. A code they did not have and had no time to find, but now that things were active inside the case, she was able to manipulate it. Normally she would have been able to play with it, convince it everything was as it should be, but not now. Instead, she simply shorted the system. With no electronics to send the command, the explosives could not be set off. She double-checked to make sure there was nothing inside that could activate and set off the self-destruct, then returned to herself. "It's safe," she got out before collapsing completely.  
  
Hobbes grabbed the case from the bed and headed out of the room. There was a secure room nearby, set aside for them to get into the case and retrieve the samples. "Claire."  
  
"I'll be right there. I have to check on Alyx first." She was already helping Darien get her sitting back up and trying to get her to focus. "Five minutes."  
  
"No more than that, Keep," Hobbes said as the door slid open and he stepped through.  
  
"Alyx, come on and wake up," Darien said as he looked over the wrist that had been injured by the cuff.  
  
Claire had already taken her temperature and was trying to find her pulse, but it was difficult through the gloves at the best of times and now was nearly impossible. "Bloody hell. Darien, find her pulse for me."  
  
Darien didn't say a word and pressed his fingers to the artery in her throat. "It's there, but weak. What's going on, Claire?" There was no way he could keep the fright from his voice.  
  
"Darien, try and get her conscious. I should be back in fifteen minutes with what I need." Claire set one hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently. Without another word, she left the room to meet Bobby, who had hopefully gotten the case open for her without damaging the contents.  
  
Darien turned back to Alyx, who had pried her eyes open to look at him. "Thank you," she mumbled to him. Reaching up, she set a hand on the side of his face and gave him a small smile.  
  
He was very surprised when, instead of being warm, her hand was actually quite cool. For a moment, relief swept through him, thinking her fever had finally broken, but when her eyes closed and she crumpled, her hand dropping away, he knew it was something else altogether. "Alyx, don't you dare do this to me!"  
  
To him? Alyx half-thought as she just let herself fall. Thought it was my life...what's left of it, anyway.  
  
Darien froze, not sure what to do, how to react. With trembling hands, he got her settled a bit more comfortably. He knew she was still alive; the short, staccato sound of her breathing was a pleasure to hear at this point, no matter how far from the norm it was.  
  
Over the months since coming to the Agency, he'd faced the deaths of many people he cared about. Kevin, first at the lab, and then Arnaud's cruel joke that took him back to Cold Springs for a time. Then Bobby, with that genius virus that, even as it made him smarter, was killing him. It took a sacrifice by Darien himself to make him see the real truth, that intelligence is nothing without emotion, without friends. And it was the first time Darien had truly realized that Bobby had become his friend and not just his partner, or Agency-paid baby-sitter.  
  
Then there had been Allianora. A freak like him -- except working for the enemy -- to whom he he'd been drawn because of that situation. That had been a relationship to nowhere, but to have her die because of it ... he still had nightmares about it. The crimson tide and the water flowing together across the tiled floor, the smell of chlorine and the coppery scent of blood mixing together. He blamed himself for her death. If had hadn't gotten so damn cocky when he went after that Chrysalis goon, he might not have ended up in that pool and she would not have felt the need to save him. To sacrifice her life for his.  
  
And now there was Alyx. Dragged into this life because of him, because the 'Fish was getting tired of using the regular threats to get him to toe the line, because the Keeper had failed to do her job as thoroughly as she might have. Her little and not-so-little manipulations and subtle training had not worked as completely as they should have, mainly because she had come to care about him as a person and not as just a lab rat. As a friend.  
  
Alyx, who had somehow wormed her way past his defenses the first time their eyes had met in that padded room. He'd started his fall then and wanted it to continue, but not at the cost of her unhappiness. And even he knew she was still unhappy. He was, too, on most days, but he kept going because there was hope, and there were things he liked about his life, people he cared about, and things he wanted to accomplish. Reasons to live.  
  
"Alyx, I... I just want to say I'm sorry. I shouldn't have talked you into anything. I should have just waited and ... and been there for you. Needs and not wants, right? Well, strange as this may sound, I need you Alyx. You scare the hell out of me at times, you drive me right up a wall and over the edge, but, like good old Bobby Hobbes, you're worth it." He spoke softly, not because he was concerned about being overheard by those in the other room, but because he simply couldn't find his voice, could hardly believe he was putting the jumbled and confused emotions he'd been feeling into coherent words.  
  
"I know you think your life sucks right now -- hell, it probably does compared to what you had before you came here -- but it'll get better. It has to. I won't let it happen any other way. You deserve better than this, better than a stupid death for the Agency. Better than me." He closed his eyes and just listened to her breathe for several minutes. His sudden burst of words having gone from a flood to a trickle, he fell back onto the words of others to continue. "'Just trust yourself, then you will know how to live.' Von Goethe. I believe in you Alyx, trust you, and have since the first time we met. Wish I knew why, but I did -- do -- and I don't think that trust has been misplaced, has it?"  
  
He leaned down and rubbed her fingers against his cheek, then realized with he was sporting several days of stubble and must look like a wreck. His hair hanging in his eyes, pale and shaky from being ill, yet she'd mentioned none of it, and he knew it wasn't out of politeness on her part. She'd never hesitated to make commentary about other things, including his ... unique fashion sense, though she seemed to like it, odd as it was. "I can't believe you'd have let me into your life as much as you have if you didn't trust me at least a little. You know what I am, what I was, yet you still let me hang out with you at all hours of the night. Let me in past that wall you like to put up, let me close enough that I know about that little sound you make when I kiss the back of your neck, that when we kiss you go weak-kneed and sometimes can't keep from broadcasting what you're feeling to me. That some days you're still so very confused about who you are." Darien wasn't entirely sure what he was saying anymore, or why. He just knew he needed to keep talking to her, that if he stopped, if the flow of words were to become dammed, he'd lose her. He did not want the death of another person on his already abused conscience.  
  
"Please, Alyx, don't give in now. Give yourself a chance to live for a while; who knows, you might even come to like it." He smiled slightly. "Have to admit, if it wasn't for the madness, this invisibility thing could be kinda fun. And not just from the perspective of one practiced in the arts of nighttime larceny. It's been so long now that I don't quite know what I'd do without it. But don't tell them that -- wouldn't want them to think I'm happy or anything." Okay, so he wasn't actually happy. Blackmail was never something he had gotten into and, having now lived with it from the other side, he was glad. He might never be satisfied until the gland was removed, might never be completely happy so long as he was an unwilling employee of the Official, but he could find some contentment at least.  
  
The door to the room opened and Darien turned to see Claire come in, wielding one hell of a syringe. "Please tell me that's it?"  
  
"This is it," Claire answered as she moved to Alyx's side. She only hesitated a second before injecting the contents into her upper arm. That's when Darien realized she wasn't wearing the headgear.  
  
"Keep, you trying to get yourself killed?" he hissed. He didn't need her falling ill as well.  
  
Claire set the syringe down among the other pieces of gear, the ones Darien had requested but not needed. "We finished the tests. It's not contagious person-to-person. Makes it a nice, neat assassination bug." She had stripped off the gloves and took Alyx's hand into hers to feel for a pulse. She found it, but was not overly comforted by it. Nor by the cold and clammy feel to Alyx's skin. Checking her forehead, she could still feel the fever, but it wasn't nearly as high as before. "All right, get rid of the ice and wrap her in blankets; her core temp is dropping and we need to get it back up."  
  
Darien didn't argue and tossed the towels onto the floor while Claire fetched every spare blanket, which they then wrapped around Alyx. "How fast will it work?" he asked as he returned to his position near her side, holding one hand in his.  
  
"If it works at all, we should see the results fairly quickly," Claire answered as she fetched the blood pressure cuff and stethoscope.  
  
"What do you mean 'if it works'?" Darien almost shouted. "You said all you needed was to get into the case and you could find the matching antibodies."  
  
"Yes, Darien, but she may be too far gone for it to help," Claire explained sadly as she moved Alyx's shirt aside and slid her hand underneath to listen to her lungs.  
  
"Ah.... crap." Darien muttered.  
  
  
  
Alyx overheard of all this, though to her it was as if she was slowly sinking down to the bottom of a very deep well, the water distorting the words and their meaning, causing them to impact upon her with less force than if she had been fully aware. Part of her found the words Darien had softly proclaimed to her frightening, not because she hadn't known he cared about her, but because he was right. He was right, and she was too damn afraid to admit it, even to herself.  
  
So she did what she always did lately -- she ran away. She found herself embroiled in flashes of her past, searching for some sort of connection to herself, perhaps trying to find that one defining moment when trust was easy and natural. She passed over the past months here with the Agency -- trust had never been part of it -- to that lab she'd been at, where her teacher had abandoned her, left her to be abused by those there, to cause such harm.... That memory stopped dead, a blank wall she could not get by and, in truth, she knew she didn't want to know what lay beyond it.  
  
Onto her children at various ages, the joy she felt at watching them grow and learn, even as she did her best to hide the truth from them -- lied to them through actions, if not words. She never understood how he could be such a good father and yet hate her so very much. He never so much as raised his voice to them. Punishments, when necessary, were appropriate and non-violent for the children. Yet he would make up reasons to leave near- bloody welts upon her back. It was amazing the damage that could be done with nothing more than straightened metal coat hanger, or with sex. What had once embodied all she had felt for him had become nothing more than another weapon in his arsenal.  
  
She shied away; remembering those times was such a combination of pain and joy, the wounds still so very raw and near to the surface. It wasn't surprising that Claire had managed to figure it out. There were more than enough hints in the existing medical records that she, being the bright woman she was, could easily put the pieces of together and make an educated guess as to what had really been going on.  
  
She fell further, pausing at the deaths of her parents. Her guilt was still there. She still blamed herself for their deaths and was still unable to understand why she'd not been able to prevent it. Further back, to a stray afternoon with her family, all of them alive and well. Her parents arguing over some triviality while she and her brothers tried to outdo one another on the diving board. Her older brothers, critiquing the youngest of the group. Trying to grasp onto the memory, she found it odd that she could not quite see his face. She knew it was him, could hear his voice, but for some reason could not see his face and it bothered her. The incongruity caused the happy family memory to fall apart.  
  
She went back a couple more years, locking onto a moment that had striking similarities with her current one. She was sitting on a hospital bed, crying quietly, her back aching from the lumbar puncture they'd given her. Even then she'd bruised horribly from it, but it wasn't the pain that was causing her to cry. It was the fact that, for all the tests they'd done over the last week, nothing of use had been discovered. And still her head hurt.  
  
Slipping into the memory, she lifted her head to see the door to her room open and the boy walk in. They'd been hanging out together while they were both stuck here. Though he was a far less willing participant in the situation, his uncle having dragged him along as punishment for some mess he'd gotten into back home.  
  
"Hey you, what's wrong?" He looked embarrassed, since she still had tears rolling down her cheeks, but hopped up on the foot of the bed in what had become 'his' spot over the past few days. "Bad news?"  
  
She shook her head. "No news. All these damn tests for nothing. And the one they did this morning hurt like hell." She knew her parents would take her to task for swearing, especially in front of someone younger than her, but they hadn't heard what came out of his mouth while the two of them were in here goofing around. He could swear like a sailor when he got going, and the jokes... he'd actually managed to get her to blush, some of them were so raunchy.  
  
"Oh. Look, I know it might not mean much, but no matter how crappy me and my uncle get along, he does know what he's doing." Much to her surprise, he actually leaned forward to squeeze her hand. "Trust me -- if anyone can help you, he can."  
  
Her heart leapt to her throat at the earnestness in his voice, at the pure faith he had in his uncle, and she found herself only able to nod.  
  
Releasing her hand, he slipped off the bed, grabbed the box of tissues lying on a nearby table, and brought them back to her. "Here. It's hard to beat a chick at poker when she's doing the waterfall routine at you." He did that little head dip that always looked so sweet and innocent on him, considering what a hellion he was, and then met her gray-blue eyes with his brown ones.  
  
She pulled out a tissue and managed a shaky laugh. "Poker? What, too chicken to play Truth or Dare again?"  
  
"Nah, no fun. You always pick truth..."  
  
"And you always pick dare," she finished. "All right, but you better not have brought that marked deck again."  
  
The memory faded, but instead of falling further away, she began to draw closer to the surface again. Her mind ran over that day from so long ago, feeling almost deja vu over it. Like there was a connection to be made and she was unable to quite see it. She stopped again, just below the surface of the water, looking out at those waiting for her to make up her mind. To fall or to fight. The one thing she knew for sure was that the wall she had built, separating herself from the rest of the world, now had some major chinks in it, perhaps a hole or two she could look out of, providing her a view of the world that she'd not been able to see for a very long time. Lessons can be learned in the strangest of places and in the most innocent of situations, including, or maybe especially, in those simple childhood games we once played.  
  
"And you always pick dare," Alyx mumbled aloud.  
  
Darien turned to Claire. "What?"  
  
Claire shook her head. "Hallucinating, I guess." She reached out to check Alyx's pulse and found it far stronger than before. Going over her in detail, Claire found her blood pressure much improved and her lungs not nearly so congested as before. "Talk to her."  
  
"Crap, what am I supposed to say?" he muttered, more to himself than Claire. He thought for a minute. "I always pick dare, huh? How could you possibly know I usually picked that when I played as a kid? Never once chickened out, either. Even the time I was dared to break into the Mitchell's place. I got in and got out with several pieces of engraved silver to prove I'd done it." He caught the wry smile Claire had on her face even as she drew another blood sample from Alyx. "My first foray into a life of crime, I was eight or nine, I guess." He held the cotton ball in place over the newest hole in her arm when Claire was done. "Can't really remember why we started playing that game. Guess it was summer and we were bored. Kevin thought it was childish and gave up playing quickly to fiddle with his chem set some more. Trying to save the world in a day, like always. There was this one girl... she always picked truth for some reason, and always told it, too...." An odd look crossed his face.  
  
"Darien?" Claire asked.  
  
"Not sure, just something I half-remembered." More like it was something he couldn't believe as true, since it didn't make any sense at all.  
  
"I'll be right back. Keep talking." Claire got to her feet and left the room with the blood sample.  
  
Darien checked the crook of Alyx's elbow to make sure it had stopped bleeding, then tossed the cotton ball onto the nearby tray. Taking her hand, he leaned over and whispered. "You always picked truth, just to annoy me."  
  
As if she had been waiting for those words, Alyx burst past the surface of the water and back into the air. The memories she had wandered through and the words she'd heard remained behind, leaving her with nothing but vague feelings and newfound view of those about her. Opening her eyes, she found Darien looking down at her. "Hey. Ummm, what's going on?"  
  
Heaving a huge sigh of relief, he drew her into a gentle hug before releasing her and getting her sitting up a bit more. "Oh, nothing much." When she looked at him in complete confusion, he added. "I'll explain later, okay?"  
  
"Sure. Why are we in the padded room's evil twin?" She was at a complete loss as to why he suddenly burst out laughing. 


	5. Chapter 5

~~ Friday ~~  
  
I park my Cherokee in the only available spot, about a half block away from Darien's apartment building, and turn off the engine with a sigh. I have to admit, having finally been able to sleep in my own bed again is a relief. I had needed the sleep; the preceding days had been exhausting for all of us, and I hoped to never go through anything like it ever again.  
  
By yesterday evening, Alyx had been well enough that she threatened to just walk out if she was not released. Since I knew she was perfectly capable of acting on that threat, I made the necessary arrangements and had both her and Darien taken home. Both will need to take a few more days to recover completely, but neither is in any danger, nor are they a danger to the population at large. That CDC facility is quite interested in that little virus and its creator, whoever that may be, but except for monitoring my pair of kepts, I am no longer involved; that facet of the investigation is out of my hands.  
  
Having allowed myself the freedom to sleep in a bit, I am arriving just after ten AM, instead of earlier as Darien was probably expecting. I pick up my case, with its assorted medical gear, and slip out of my Jeep. Walking briskly up the street, I cannot help but notice, yet again, how quiet the neighborhood is even for a weekday. It makes sense, I suppose, given that his former profession involved working nights and he most likely slept during the day. He would want the tranquility and peace that could sometimes be so hard to find in a city of this size.  
  
I sort through my keys as I walk, to retrieve the one for his building. There have been occasions that required my being able to get to him without the awkwardness of having to wait for a door to be opened, so I talked him into giving me a key. He made me promise to not tell Bobby about it, fearing his sometimes paranoid and neurotic partner would either make him cough up one for him as well or take him to task for handing out keys that could be stolen and used against him.  
  
Seriously, it's not like Darien is trying to hide. His address and phone number can be found with little difficulty, which makes it somewhat surprising that any of the several enemies he has made haven't just blasted their way through his door in the middle of the night. It's one of those odd idiosyncrasies of this business; there are dozens of ways to trace a person's life, yet it rarely happens. Yes, there are most likely those who spy upon Darien -- probably upon myself as well, but I try not to worry about it. Be aware of it, yes. But, unless you are Bobby Hobbes, one cannot live in a permanent state of paranoia.  
  
Instead of just unlocking his door, I knock, hoping he won't answer since he is supposed to be in bed resting. I hear a muffled "Just a sec," that makes me frown. I swear, there are times I think he never listens to a thing I say. Then the door opens, and he tries to give me a smile.  
  
"Hey, Keep. Whatcha doing here?" He steps aside and waves for me to enter.  
  
He's still in his pajamas, but has showered recently. His hair is damp and hanging down onto his forehead, instead of being upright and adding inches to his already lofty height. I can only hope it's just laziness and not another round of depression. "My job, what else?" I answer as I place the case on the pool table and open it.  
  
I can't help but notice the pictures spread across the surface of the table. Most of them are older, and a majority of them are of women. There are also pics of Kevin mixed in, along with some of his aunt and uncle, with whom he had lived while growing up after he lost both of his parents through different circumstances. I notice one picture and pick it up. It is fairly old, worn and dog-eared as if it had been carried about in a pocket or perhaps crushed a time or two during its existence. The woman appears to be in her late twenties or so, and is pretty. She was sitting on a rocking chair and pointing at something off camera.  
  
I am wondering who she is when Darien leans over my shoulder to look at the picture. I catch his face in profile and I realize this must be his mother. He plucks the pic from my hand and sighs softly. "Darien, are you all right?"  
  
He moves away to lean against the counter a few short steps away from me. My reason for coming over here no longer seems important. I have the feeling he needs to talk to someone, and I switch my focus so that I can give him whatever help he may need.  
  
"I was so mad at her for... for leaving that I threw all her pictures away." He gives me a wan smile. "Stupid, I know, but at the time it seemed to be the right thing to do. I was a kid." He shrugs and tries to smooth out the picture with a sad smile on his face. "I found this weeks later, buried in a drawer, when we were packing up to move. I carried it around with me for years. I never understood why Kevin didn't get mad at me for destroying the photos, till I found out he had dozens of his own. But I learned that years later, and by then I wasn't really angry anymore."  
  
"Anger is a natural reaction when someone dies, Darien." I find myself falling back on the standard validation techniques that are used when dealing with grief. "You shouldn't feel guilty about it."  
  
"I don't. Not anymore. I was just a kid trying to deal with something I barely understood. It had been hard enough when my dad bailed, but to lose Mom..." He stops and takes a deep breath. "At the time, it was just one too many things."  
  
"What do you mean?" I ask out of curiosity as I look over the pictures again. Darien with various girls in high school, a few of him at college, more after he had left school and turned to less legal means of supporting himself. There are even photos of him and Casey, the doctor he had been dating when he'd been arrested that last time, who had offered to help him deal with the gland before I was been brought in and she was ... discouraged from getting involved.  
  
"I... Even back then, Kev was 'das wunderkin' and, even though he was bumped up several grades, I still constantly got the 'why can't you be more like Kevin' line from just about every teacher I had. And mind you, this was in like kindergarten and first grade." He pushes away from the counter and looks over the pictures spread out before us, picking one up seemingly at random. It appears to be a school picture of a young girl about ten years old. "This was the last person who liked me for me. She killed herself when her father's abuse got to be too much and no one seemed willing to help her. I did what I could, but how much can a kid do, ya know?"  
  
I am not sure what to say. In the past few minutes, he has told me more about his early life than I've heard in the previous year and a half. "Darien..."  
  
He shakes his head. "My point, and I do have one, is that my mom was pretty much the only person who believed in me. Who knew that I was just as smart as Kevin, even if I didn't show it the same way. She would defend me in front of teachers, relatives -- hell, perfect strangers -- who thought that I should be Kevin Fawkes Mark II. She always explained that I couldn't be Kevin, that I was Darien Fawkes and had my own life to live." He tosses the picture back down. "Then she was gone and we got shipped off to Uncle Peter, who thought the sun rose and set on Kevin and never failed to compare me to him. With me on the losing end, of course.  
  
"So one day I just decided that, since I couldn't be Kevin's perfect carbon copy -- not that I wanted to be, mind you -- that I'd make a name for myself, my way. And that's what I did." Sorting through the pictures he picks up one of Casey and shows it to me. "She was one of the best things that ever happened to me, but all she saw was the lie. Oh, when we were alone it was just me and her, but she saw me as this philanthropist, working for UNICEF." He chuckles for a moment. "She was right, though; it didn't matter that how I felt about her was real. I conned her. Sold her the product she expected, to get what I wanted. I'm not surprised she left after everything. I was a total stranger to her twice over."  
  
I want to tell him the truth about that, but refrain. It won't help at this point, except to perhaps make him even more bitter about his current life and his association with the Agency. "You are who you are, Darien. We all have things in our past that we regret." I am still unsure about why he's brought this up. Why he's looking through photographs, through his memories of all the women who have left him over the years.  
  
"Regret? Not really. I liked what I did. Being a thief was something I was good at, and not even my Uncle Pete, or Kevin, could deny that. I made a mark for myself. It just wasn't the one others wanted me to make." There is an odd tone of pleasure and wistfulness to his voice that tells me more than words can. He still feels a bit lost here, still feels out of place as an agent, still feels isolated and alone because of the situation. He has to find his place on his own though; there is little I can do to help him.  
  
"Then why all this?" I wave my hand at the pictures.  
  
"I was...checking, I guess. Making sure I was remembering things correctly. It's been a very long time since someone just accepted me for who I am, without lies and pretenses." He sets down the photo and begins sweeping them all into a pile, then places them into a box that sits nearby.  
  
"Who?" I will freely admit that there are things about Darien I would change, but I know it will probably never happen. He is set in his ways and has fought every constraint placed against him, even those necessary ones I have set forth. There are reasons I'm called the Keeper and why I'm supposed to remain anonymous and detached. Reasons that crumbled to a degree after dealing with him. There is still a line drawn between us, but it is thin and worn in many places these days.  
  
He laughs at my question. "Come on, Keepy, who do you think?"  
  
Of course. "Alyx. But how do you know? Even you've said she doesn't trust you." It's not that I don't believe him, but I have to wonder what insights he thinks he has into her.  
  
He shakes his head. "This isn't about trust. It's about... the little things. Like, she doesn't drink beer, but keeps a six-pack in her fridge for me, and I never suggested she do that. Or like yesterday -- she never once questioned whether or not I could crack the code on that cuff, just helped the process a bit. Even if she can't seem to trust me, she... has faith in my abilities, accepts them as part of who I am. I know Hobbes still gets this look when I do or say some things. So do you, Claire. But not her. Not Alyx." He is finished putting the pictures away and closes the box that he stores them haphazardly in. One of the few instances where he's not his orderly and neat self, and I know there is some deep meaning to this, but right now I'm not interested in delving into it. Lifting the box, he carries it to the closet and, after getting the door open, slides it onto the top shelf where there is an obvious space waiting for it.  
  
I know I should examine him -- need to, in fact, to make sure he is recovering as he should -- but not quite yet. "And? Even if you are correct about how she sees you, what does that mean?"  
  
He leans back against the closet door and looks at me, meeting my eyes with that calm, deep gaze of his. "I wish I knew."  
  
  
  
Later that day, I'm making what I hope will be my last stop before heading back to my home for dinner and much-needed sleep. Unlike Darien, Alyx has not given me a key to her apartment, so I have no choice but press the buzzer and hope I'm not disturbing her too badly. She is in need of total rest for a few days, and I am going enforce it, somehow. I'll threaten to move her to Lab Three if necessary, though I doubt I will have to. When I spoke to her on the phone earlier, she sounded like a bullfrog, her voice badly distorted, and she mentioned she had been sneezing almost constantly. I found myself stifling the urge to laugh. It wasn't that she was complaining -- Darien had taken care of that quite handily once I began my examination. In fact, I think she was more than a little relieved, and a bit surprised, to still be among the living.  
  
I think for a while there she gave up. Decided not to fight any more, once the danger from the explosives was eliminated and she knew the rest of us were safe. She has suffered some minor memory loss due to the fever, and has no recollection of whatever dreams and hallucinations she had. In truth, Darien remembers more about them than she does, since she talked in her illness-induced sleep -- much to her annoyance, when she was told. Her memory from the time she first woke up after being sedated till several hours after being given the antibodies is a shaky, confused jumble of images and fever dreams that make little sense to her as yet. She may regain some of the memories as she recovers, but I will not be overly concerned if she doesn't. Most people running one hundred and five degree fevers for several hours usually suffer more than just a little memory loss. Brain damage is typically a serious risk, but so far Alyx appears to be perfectly fine.  
  
I hear the locks disengage and slide the heavy door open to see... no one standing on the far side. "Alyx?"  
  
"Bed," she croaks out. "Didn't wanna get up."  
  
I shut the door and walk further inside. She's moved the wall panels that usually conceal her bed from the living area, and I see her sitting supported by a pile of pillows nursing a mug of ... something. Sniffing as I get closer, I can't help but notice the all-pervasive scent of garlic. "Bobby?" I ask as I set my case on the foot of the bed and open it.  
  
She clears her throat and then, unexpectedly, sneezes. She manages to not spill a single drop of the soup, but heaves a tired sigh as she reaches for a tissue from the box nearby, whereupon she sneezes twice more. "Always in threes," she comments as she tosses the now balled up tissue into a conveniently placed trashcan. "Yup, Bobby stopped by to play Jewish mother- hen at me about an hour ago. Was gonna head over to Darien's next. I have three more quarts of this stuff in my fridge, and I'll probably eat all of it. Don't exactly have the energy to cook right now." She screws up her face for a moment, and I'm certain she's going to sneeze again, but she yawns instead. "Finally." I look at her oddly, wondering what the bloody hell is going on. "Popped my ear. Please, a decongestant? Just one? I'm tired of sounding like a frog with a broken nose."  
  
I chuckle and nod. "Got some, specially designed just for you," I answer, pulling the bottle out of the case and handing it to her. She shifts and sets the mug down on the headboard of the bed, then takes the bottle from me. Without hesitation, she reads over the instructions, opens the container, and dry-swallows two of them. "They will make you sleepy, but at a guess you won't mind that too much."  
  
She shakes her head and shifts to sit cross-legged, leaning forward a bit. "I...how is Darien?"  
  
"Quite well. He'll be perfectly fine come Monday, much to his dismay. Apparently all that time off to heal a couple weeks ago wasn't quite enough." Alyx snorts and begins to laugh, but it quickly devolves into a coughing fit that, while sounding horrible, is an improvement over the day before. "How are you feeling?" I ask once she has regained control.  
  
"Alive, much to my surprise." She's not meeting my eyes, her head tipped down and one hand following the pattern stitched into the blanket draped across her legs. "I said something to him, didn't I? Something stupid and hurtful, though I'm guessing true as well."  
  
I nod. "That would be my guess. You weren't speaking aloud at the time." Darien has not told me, and I haven't asked. It is between the two of them and they will have to figure it out for themselves. "He did mention that you two were 'messing around,' as he put it."  
  
"Accurate enough, I guess. Can't call it dating when all we do is hang out here sometimes and ... make out." She lifts her head to look at me. "The Official was keeping us too damn busy for much more than that. He'd fall asleep half the time. Missed the climax to quite a few movies."  
  
I am actually glad she is willing to discuss this, glad I don't have to dance around and draw her into the subject. "And you broke it off, why?" I pick up the blood pressure cuff and direct her to roll up the sleeve on the T-shirt she is wearing so I can wrap it about her biceps.  
  
"Because it was a lie. I mean, great, given enough time, enough consciousness, and the opportunity, we could and probably would gleefully enjoy a tumble or two. But that's not what he needs, nor is it what he's looking for. Though he'd probably be loathe to admit it." She closes her eyes and absentmindedly scratches the back of her hand. "He deserves far more than the little I can give him."  
  
I remove the blood pressure cuff and exchange it for a thermometer, which I stick in her mouth. "Perhaps. But perhaps you are being far too hard on yourself. Things have changed, Alyx. You have changed. Maybe the only reason you say you still can't trust is because you're afraid you already do." She glares at me, but keeps her mouth shut until the thermometer beeps, signaling it's finished its job. Her temp is still not back to normal, but she's not in any danger either. Considering she was near death just yesterday, I am more than satisfied at the rate of her recovery.  
  
"When I woke up earlier, I realized it's been almost a year. And in that year, I have found very little reason to want to trust. The last person I did trust abandoned me, left me at the mercy of those bastards in that lab. He made me want to believe that people overall were more good than evil, made me almost admit that what my... husband had done to me was the exception, but in the end he abused what little trust I had been able to give him." She leans back into the pillows and rubs her forehead as if a headache is building there. "What am I supposed think, Claire, when every time I hold out my hand to someone they try to cut it off?"  
  
The allusion to the recent incident is not lost upon me, and for her it is a reasonable worldview, however incorrect it is. "Everyone? That I don't believe. Bobby may not have...dealt with your arrival very well, but he's adjusted. He may not show it, but he trusts you, Alyx, in his own way."  
  
"Trusts my skills, maybe, but not me. I still give him a major case of the willies," Alyx says in a flat tone, and I can't argue. Her assessment is probably more accurate. "More than understandable. Brilliant planning on the Official's part."  
  
She's not wrong. Knowing how bad Bobby's paranoia can get, it is surprising how well he has adjusted to her and her abilities. He complained about it quite a bit at first, but somewhere over the last couple of months he's figured that her talents can be quite useful. Our adventure in the snowy northern mountains a few weeks ago only firmed this belief. A few things changed over the course of those days, for all four of us.  
  
"What about Darien? He trusts you."  
  
She sighs and slumps down into the pillows, looking tired. "Not really. He can't. He doesn't know me."  
  
"Alyx--"  
  
She cuts off my words. "He sympathizes with the lab rat -- feels a kinship. He's attracted to the packaging. He's in awe and sometimes in fear of the woman. But trusts me?" She shakes her head. "He may think so, but he only trusts that image of me he holds inside, and that's not me." Her voice is tight. "Hell, half the time I'm not sure who I am."  
  
I consider her words carefully, wanting to make sure my commentary has the effect that I intend it to. "Well, then, how do you know his image of you is wrong?"  
  
She locks her eyes with mine, and I suddenly have some small idea of what Darien must have seen -- still sees -- whenever he looks into them. It is not so much the very surprising color of her eyes, but the depths to which one can see in them. Eyes being the windows to the soul and all that. When she finally speaks, her voice is soft, and not because of the borderline laryngitis.  
  
"That's what I'm afraid of."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
The musical tone of her phone ringing partially drew Alyx's focus away from the notes she'd been making on biochemical dependency from the textbook before her. With only about a third of her attention, she answered with a gravely, "Silver."  
  
"You should be resting," the only slightly nasal voice at the other end commented.  
  
"I rested all day. 'M awake now." She closed both the book and the notebook and set them aside. "And I could say the same about you."  
  
He sighed loud enough to be heard across the intervening distance. "Bored."  
  
"Ah," Alyx responded and then fought off yet another sneeze attack. "Erm, go rent a movie or something."  
  
"Nah, no fun watching alone, and I want no part of Hobbesy the mother hen right now," Darien said. His tone of total annoyance told her Bobby that had outstayed his welcome earlier.  
  
Alyx started to laugh, but after a moment had to pull the phone away as she began to cough, her chest aching and the muscles of her abdomen complaining bitterly until she had control back. "Damn, Darien, don't make me laugh. I happen to like my lungs where they are currently located." Her voice actually sounded a bit closer to normal, as if that last coughing fit had finally loosened something in her chest and throat.  
  
Darien chuckled softly. "Sorry. So, whatcha wearing?" The leer sounded very amusing with him being nearly as congested as her.  
  
"Hey, I said not to make me laugh." She grinned. "And I'm wearing an exciting combination of sweats, T-shirt, and blankets that should be a hit on the runways this spring."  
  
"Want some company?" His voice was soft, serious.  
  
"Yeah, I'd like that. We can compare degrees of misery." She matched his tone.  
  
"Well, then, open your door."  
  
Alyx did light scan, to find him standing in the hallway outside her apartment. Setting down the phone, she wrapped the blanket about her shoulders and shuffled to the door, undid the locks, and slid it open to see him standing there, looking far healthier than she felt. Instead of saying hello or making any other comment, she sneezed threes times in quick succession and then sighed heavily as he raised his eyebrows at her and tried not to laugh.  
  
"An interesting greeting." He stepped past her and then turned to take care of the door for her.  
  
"Sorry. I can't seem to stop, and it's driving me nuts." With a burst of intuition, she suddenly knew that he'd been standing outside her door the last time, too, when she'd been teasing him while ensconced in a bathtub full of bubbles.  
  
She waved at the sofa. "Pull up a box of tissues and have a seat." She sucked in a breath then as her sinuses decided to remind her of their unhappiness at the current situation, causing her to close her eyes and sway.  
  
Darien reacted to what appeared to be Alyx trying to faint by moving the two short steps to her side and scooping her up in his arms. He carried her to the sofa and set her down, as she looked up at him in stunned silence. "You should not be up," he admonished her once she was sitting.  
  
"I'm fine, Darien. Really." When it looked like he was going to start lecturing her, she backed down. "All right. All right. I'll be good." She lowered her voice to a mutter. "And I thought Bobby was bad."  
  
"I heard that," Darien commented as he grabbed a box of tissues and sat down at the opposite end of the sofa, handing them to her.  
  
"You were supposed to," Alyx quipped with a grin. "Now, why are you over here, really?"  
  
He settled back a bit and looked at her, not sure where to begin. She might not remember everything that had happened over the last few days, but he did. Some of it was burned into his mind and had forced him to really think about things. He didn't get a chance to say anything, however.  
  
"I'm sorry. I know I said something stupid, even if I can't remember exactly what." She paused to rub her eyes; this was not easy for her. "And I want to thank you."  
  
"For what?" He sounded more than a little surprised.  
  
She shook her head at him. "For what? For sticking by me. For getting me out of that damn cuff." She raised her hand, the remains of the burns still visible against her pale skin. "For putting up with all the crap I've been tossing at you when you don't have to."  
  
"Alyx, yeah, you got downright nasty at one point, but you were right and I was just being too damn stubborn to see it." He lifted his head to meet her eyes, a dangerous thing to do considering he knew how they affected him. For a change, though, he didn't feel that fist tighten about his heart, that sudden raw burst of emotion that still could surprise him with its intensity. He simply saw her. Alive. "You have your own life to lead and your own decisions to make. I could really use another friend, anyway."  
  
Alyx was truly shocked at the disappointment that surged through her, making her wonder what it was she had said that had caused him to ... to give up, to back down, even though he'd fought her backing off from their attempt at a relationship for weeks now. Could Claire be right? Could she have been lying to herself all along? Or could he simply have done what no one else seemed to have been able to do for a long time? "Darien, I... ah... ah, hell." She hastily grabbed a tissue and sneezed another set of three.  
  
Darien grinned, but then fell into the same reaction, only with one spectacular sneeze that left Alyx looking at him in startlement even as she handed him the box of tissues. "Ah, crap. Well, that was, umm... different."  
  
Both broke into laughter and the tension eased between them, that comfortable camaraderie settling back into place for the moment.  
  
"Movie?" Alyx asked. "I have a ton of that matzo soup as well."  
  
The reply that leapt from him was not planned. "How about poker?"  
  
"Poker? Been years since I played that." She got hit by a sudden wave of deja vu and shook it off. "What the hell. I've got a deck of cards somewhere." She pushed herself to her feet.  
  
"Strip poker?" Darien suggested with a grin as he got up as well.  
  
"Trust me, you want no part of what's under these oh-so-sexy clothes."  
  
Neither chose to comment on her choice of words, even though both knew they had been said.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
~~ Saturday ~~  
  
When my doorbell rings, I leave the medical journal I've been reading open on the sofa and head to my door. Much to my surprise and dismay, Alyx is standing there. This time she's not wearing heavy clothes -- the weather has finally broken, returning to the warm, dry conditions that are far more normal this time of year. Instead, she's in a sleeveless T-shirt and a pair of bleached-out jeans that are nearly worn through in the knees.  
  
"Alyx, you should be home in bed." I step aside and she slips past me into my home.  
  
"I'm fine." Her voice is still a bit rough, but nothing like yesterday. "Fever's gone, and blood pressure is back to normal. Didn't we agree to every Saturday I wasn't working?"  
  
I join her near the banister at the beginning of the hallway, where she's waiting patiently for me to decide. "All right, but we'll try to go easy today. You could still relapse."  
  
She nods and then turns her head at the small bark that comes from the living room. Pavlov is poking his head around the corner to see who the visitor is. "Hey Pav, how's it hanging?" He hesitates for all of a second and then barrels at Alyx only to stop right in front of her, sitting perfectly still as if waiting for some signal from her. Kneeling down, she scratches him on the top of his head. "Nice to see you too, sweetie."  
  
For some reason I feel angry, jealous almost, and force myself to set it aside. There is little chance she is doing it intentionally. "You can... read his mind?" I ask her as she gets back to her feet. We proceed to the living room with Pavlov running back and forth between the two of us.  
  
"Sort of?" she answers as she sits in the chair, sets the backpack down, and opens it to withdraw a box of tissues and a notebook. "Dogs don't think or process emotions quite the same way humans do. Much more stream of consciousness, and their sensory organization is different. I can get rough impressions from him."  
  
I somehow manage to cover my surprise. I don't think anyone had entertained the possibility that she could... communicate with animals. We just barely understand how she does it with humans. "So what was he thinking?" Pavlov jumps up on the sofa next to me and shoves the magazine to the floor in an attempt to get my attention. I reach out to rub the top of his head in that one spot he can never seem to be able to reach.  
  
"Well, first he just wanted to confirm with his eyes that I was who he thought I was. Then he was trying to figure out my mood. He was quite pleased to find I was happier than last time." She flips open the notebook and holds it out to me, and I release Pavlov to take it from her. "I read over that book like you suggested, and it did clear up a few things. It's been a while since I worked on stuff like this. I'm a bit out of practice."  
  
I look over the first page of notes and try not to react. If I had known she was going to read the entire book and make an attempt at the problem already, I might have gone about things differently, but as has become common with Alyx, she has surprised me yet again. It had been a test of sorts, to see if she really understood the sometimes convoluted sciences that were needed to work on the QS-9000 project. She has more than passed my little test. I look at her and she has small smile that tells me she knew exactly what I was doing.  
  
"So, does this mean you think my idea may be feasible?"  
  
I set the notebook down on the coffee table. "Yes, if you're willing to help."  
  
She shifts back into the seat. "You think you can talk the Official in to trying it?"  
  
That was the real issue in many ways. Would the Official balk at making Darien's leash a bit longer, giving him some small amount of freedom, of hope? "Let me deal with the Official," I answer. It wouldn't be the first time I've gone behind his back or gone against his orders to help Darien, and I'm not going to stop now. She nods, but I can see something in her eyes, something that suggests that, even if I were to nix the entire idea, it wouldn't stop her from going ahead on her own. I debate calling her on it, but decide to wait, to see how things play out, to see how divided her -- our -- loyalties might become over the issue of Darien.  
  
"So, where do you want me to start today?" she asks softly and I know her attention has moved on to her real reason for being here. There is a difference today; the sense of resignation, of discomfort at discussing her past, her life, is mostly gone, replaced almost by acceptance.  
  
"You decide," I find myself saying, as if I know she has something she wants or needs to talk about. She seems to recognize the fact that I've granted her the freedom she needs for today. Instead of leading her down the path, I'm simply following along beside her. It's a step in the right direction for both of us.  
  
  
  
// "When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives means the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a warm and tender hand. The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing, and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is a friend who cares." -- Henri Nouwen, Out of Solitude  
  
And when you find them, the one and only thing you should do in return is exactly the same. //  
  
Finis 


End file.
